Caged Tyger
by mayzee
Summary: Being locked up doesn't mean Thomas McAllister is finished playing his game with Jane and Lisbon's team just yet. Jane's decision to remove himself from the board is rocked when Lisbon brings him some devastating news. Set around six months after my one-shot Endings. As ever, reviews are always appreciated. T/M rating.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is a sequel to my short one-shot Endings so please read that fic first if you haven't already or you may be a little confused from the outset. But, in summary, the premise for this is that Red John (McAllister) _was_ in that limo at the end of season 4 and was arrested by Lisbon and her team.**

 **I've been wanting to write this for quite some time so I'm excited to be finally having a crack at it (I've written three chapters so far so before I tweak the hell out of the first one again and again thought I'd better publish it to stop myself). Hope you enjoy the setup and any feedback/reviews would be welcomed. (For those waiting on updates to my other stories I'll do my best to get back to them as soon as inspiration strikes. Currently, I'm just glad I'm enjoying writing regularly again after a long hiatus so your patience would be appreciated).**

 **THE EVENTS IN THIS STORY TAKE PLACE SIX MONTHS LATER**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or any of its characters.**

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CAGED TYGER

Chapter 1 - Hello darkness, my old friend...

Teresa Lisbon eyed the yacht moored at the end of the dock, a peculiar knot in her stomach twisting, tightening. Seeing Jane again after all these months apart would be... _strange_.

Well, that was a vast understatement. Last time they'd seen each other they'd kissed, after all. The attic, so long Jane's sanctuary, became _theirs_ for a brief moment in time. Surrounded by cobwebs and bare beams they'd held each other, clung to each other.

Matching quaking breaths.

Equal concession.

And an overriding sense of finality, floating through the air like the dust bunnies that circled them.

But amidst the mustiness and dankness, tremulous timidity gave way to tenderness as their lips met. Courage led to confidence as their mouths sought more.

If they hadn't been interrupted by Wainwright's phone call then who knows what...

 _Better not travel too far down that path._

So, in the end, it was a kiss of goodbye, a farewell to a different type of life they might have someday had if circumstances had been different.

A chance lost.

New paths taken alone.

She bore him no resentment for his choice. And, in many ways, her decision to arrest Thomas McAllister and stop Jane from killing him that day had curbed whatever may have transpired between them if Jane had stayed at the CBI. For his leaving also meant she didn't have to see the disapproval in his eyes for her decision.

She recalled the events perfectly like they happened yesterday. And unlike today, where the soft breeze of the ocean whispered soothingly over her skin, she'd never forgotten the blazing sun on her skin nor the dry heat in her vehicle as they'd waited for Red John to arrive, the tension in the air so thick she could almost taste it, then bitterness and bile on her tongue as the day's events progressed.

And, in a way, the scorched earth of the Nevada desert was a perfect harbinger to the parting of their ways and the dissolution of their long partnership. Things would never have been the same between them again if he had stayed despite (or, maybe also, because of) what had occurred later between them that same evening. Nonetheless, something impossibly valuable was lost that day. But perhaps something was gained too, she'd later come to believe.

She missed him, of course. Every single day shone a little less bright than the one preceding it due to his absence in her life. She laughed less. Withdrew into the safety of herself more.

But she'd grown accustomed to that dull ache of loss in her gut all those months he'd been in Vegas. Then his sudden reappearance where he'd arrived back like a tornado, sweeping her and her team into its vortex and spinning them into the craziness of yet another one of his plans, left her little time to grow accustomed to his day to day presence again. For that she was grateful. Because then, just as quickly, he was gone again and, along with the loss, her brain left in a wholly different type of headspin.

But she'd started to think her choice and his might have been the right one for them both in the end. Jane onto pastures new and, for her, a chance to get her career back on track. Wainwright had propelled her into the limelight alongside himself for a brief few weeks. She was just thankful he wanted centre stage and did most of the talking. And more thankful when the story became yesterday's news.

Capturing the infamous Red John had given her stature, value as an agent again within the Bureau. Her team were slapped on their backs by their colleagues, commendations issued. For a short time, she could almost feel the ground under her feet, a sense of normalcy inside the madness.

Then, everything shifted. Her world turned upside down again. _Blake_ whispered in corridors.

And now it had shifted on its axis once more.

The press had been whipped up into a frenzy again. But she'd declined every interview request in the past week, ignored reporters clamouring for sound bites. And, for once, Wainwright had understood.

God, she really had been such a deluded fool to think it would really be over that day in Nevada.

She put one foot in front of the other and pushed her shoulders back as she clutched the black leather satchel tightly to her side, the manila folder that lay inside evoking emotions she simply had to keep a hold on. She wasn't normally the type for self-pity or self-recusal so what good would it do to cry or scream or stomp her feet now about the injustices in the world?

 _What's done is done, right? Can't change the past. Better to move on, don't dwell on mistakes made. Learn and make better decisions from this point on..._

 _Yada yada..._

It was easy to recite those platitudes. Not so easy to actually follow them. Certainly not anymore.

Sweaty-palmed, she checked the note in her jeans pocket one last time with a quick nod, satisfied she had arrived at the correct mooring. She took a moment to view the white yacht that met her, smaller than its neighbours but still impressive, sun glistening off its glossy curves, sunlight reflecting off its dark panes as it gently bobbed on the water. Exhaling a deep breath, she was about to step on the passerelle when a slim woman in her late thirties with flowing blonde wavy hair came out of the inside cabin. She walked with the gait of someone accustomed to being on the boat, attractive with deep brown eyes, small pert nose and peach lips curved into a carefree smile. She carried white tennis shoes in one hand, a large cotton bag in the other adorned with birds of paradise, and wore a fluid white and peach patterned sundress that came to just below her knees, bare tanned legs to match her arms and face.

Lisbon stopped at the end of the metal gangplank, frowned as the woman smiled at her. The stranger spoke. Pleasantly, "Good morning, can I help you?"

Maybe she had the wrong yacht after all. "Um-I-um...I was looking for uh-"

Smiling, "Patrick?"

Lisbon nodded dumbly.

"He's just inside, come onboard," she responded with a nod behind her to the interior. She strolled towards Lisbon. "I'm so sorry, have to run, I'm afraid. Late for tennis. Nice to meet you, though! I'm Elle, by the way. Maybe we can meet properly later if you're still around?"

With that, she passed Lisbon with another gleaming smile in her direction. Lisbon walked onto the boat, the frown still set on her face.

 _Elle?_ She hadn't asked Lisbon who she was or what she wanted with Jane. And she certainly didn't appear to have any misgivings or in any way felt threatened about a strange woman showing up first thing in the morning to visit her...boyfriend? _Jane was actually someone's boyfriend now?_ Lisbon rolled her eyes at how absurd that sounded in her head. She never thought she'd have seen the day. Or maybe she wasn't that to him, maybe she was just someone who shared the boat? A boat-mate... _was there even such a thing?_ But Jane was such a lone wolf, would he just allow a near stranger to live with him? It was possible, she supposed. _Wishful thinking, Teresa_ sounded in her head before she could stop it.

"Ellie? You forget something again?"

Jane's voice came from inside and she froze where she stood on the deck. His tone was amused, teasing. Her stomach performed a different type of somersault.

 _Ellie. Not just ELLE to him, then._

 _AGAIN. So she HAD stayed with him before. Or WAS living with him currently._

 _Crap._

She shook herself mentally. She hadn't sought him out to process those sorts of emotions. Today her mind had to be focused on what was important and not on her stupid bruised ego.

He came out of the cabin a second or two later, the familiar teal teacup and saucer in his hands, all scruffy beard and bed-tousled hair that looked like it hadn't been cut since they'd last seen each other. He wore navy knee-length loose shorts and a light grey cotton T-shirt. Barefooted, he looked her up and down, brief shock giving way to surprise before a small smile came to his lips.

"Hey, Lisbon."

"Jane," was all she could manage at first. She swallowed hard. She had stupidly expected him to look exactly like he had in the attic that night. This was like looking at a complete stranger but equipped with Jane's voice. Hesitantly, "H-hey."

He motioned to the interior with his head and spoke convivially, "Come on in, I've just made some tea. You look like you might just need some."

* * *

Lisbon sat down at a varnished dark wood semi-circular table inside while Jane put the kettle back on the stove. "Would you prefer coffee? I only have instant, though, I'm afraid."

Surprised he had any type of coffee she then noticed a silk scarf beside her adorned in muted blue flowers. She shifted sideways from it and said, "Uh, yeah, thank you, Jane. Sure, that'd be great."

"How'd you track me down?"

Now the shock had worn off he was playing amiable host - friendly but guarded.

She cleared her throat. She had a lot to get through so may as well start with the easy stuff first.

"Uh-it wasn't easy. Couldn't find any trace of you at first. Then...then I remembered you said you always wanted to try sailing. It was a long shot but I started looking at marinas, boat rentals, purchases."

"Clever. Though, for obvious reasons, I'm not registered under my own name at this marina."

"No. But there aren't that many that don't have security cameras installed. So, naturally, those were the ones you were liable to have a boat docked. And when I saw the name Sam Carson registered to this one in the last few months I thought it was worth checking out. Called the Marina manager, emailed him your photograph and, well, here I am."

He came towards her with a steaming mug of coffee. "How'd you know I'd still be in California at all? It's been a little over six months since we last saw each other."

She blushed at the memory of that recollection and looked at the coffee mug in his hand so as not to focus on his lips or eyes. As if that would stop him from reading her. Which he did, his eyes trained on her face intently, assessing her openly.

She took the coffee gratefully, hated how her hands shook, hated even more how he'd noticed. "I didn't. But..." She shrugged, sipped her drink made just as she liked it, "figured you wouldn't stray too far. At least, not yet."

"You mean until McAllister's trial is over?"

She flinched at his name and looked down. "Yeah."

He sat beside her, saw the same scarf she had between them and glanced at her quickly, gauging her again. She watched him move it behind him out of the corner of her eye as she took another sip of coffee.

He leaned back comfortably, sat his saucer on the table and drank some tea. "So, that's why you're here? Trial date been set? I was expecting you'd be in touch about it at some point. Though admittedly, not today. Didn't expect the evidence to be gathered so quickly. You want my testimony, I gather? Play the grieving widower card so I can help get you your conviction?"

Lisbon's head jerked up in surprise at his tone. The affable front wasn't holding up entirely. Maybe in the months apart, his bitterness _had_ been growing. Maybe it didn't matter she wasn't by his side every day or not. Or maybe seeing her again had just brought it to the surface. But, with all that had happened in the last week or so, he was more than entitled to feel how he did.

She blinked, "You-you really have no idea why I'm here, do you?"

Eyes narrowed, "It appears not."

"I thought..." Her voice trailed off. "I wondered why you hadn't been in touch...I was annoyed, upset you hadn't, actually...I really thought you would have contacted me...well, the team, I mean, despite everything that happened in Nevada but this explains..." She shook her head, focused on him again, "You really haven't seen the news lately, have you?"

"I don't own a television."

"Okay, but surely the radio-?"

"I only listen to the weather forecast." He glanced through one of the large picture windows beside them. "Just to gauge whether I can take her out or not."

"Her?" Her eyes flicked to the scarf behind him again.

He smiled, "The yacht, Lisbon. The feminine gender is normally assigned to most types of vehicles, including-"

"Oh, right. Yes-yes I know." She took another sip of coffee.

He leaned forward, "So, fill me in? Why exactly are you here? Because by how you're gulping down that coffee and your generally pale pallor it's something that's been keeping you awake at nights. Plus, you're certainly not as astute as normal. Something important is quite obviously on your mind. And the fact you went to the trouble of seeking me out here I'm guessing it must have to do with McAllister in some way."

"Jane," she sighed. With that one word expressed, her limbs suddenly felt like stone, tiredness winning against caffeine.

"He's escaped, is that it? Someone broke him out?"

She laughed humourlessly as tears gathered in her eyes. "God, I _really_ wish that was it."

"Just tell me, will you? You're beginning to frighten me now, Lisbon."

She nodded as she took a deep breath, opened the bag she brought with her and extracted the file from it. She sat it on the table between them, her fingertips running over it gently before she took another long draw of her coffee.

He went to grab it but she stopped him. "Wait, I-I need to explain something first."

As she fought to find the words for a second he surmised, "This is a CBI Serious Crimes case file. So, a murder has been committed in all likelihood. And since he's still locked up I'm assuming someone else has picked up his mantle. Someone else is killing in his style. Either as a means of showing respect, a deranged fan of his, or on orders directly from him as a more sinister means to cast doubt on his identity as Red John. A way for him to escape the death penalty or, possibly, prison at all if handled and spun correctly. He could end up a free man."

 _Same old Jane, spot on as usual._

And briefly, Lisbon was surprised Jane didn't seem horrified by his own words. If anything, he was excited as he spoke, passionate, even. She'd weighed up the possibility he'd react in such a fashion on the drive to the marina but hearing the unabashed frisson of near delight in his tone was still highly disarming. Because, naturally, if McAllister could walk free then Jane would also be free to kill him – and he'd make certain it was without interference this time.

She debated internally, and not for the first time in a week, if she had been wise coming to see him.

"Yes," she agreed with as much neutrality as she could muster, "you are correct. Another Red John type murder was reported just over a week ago."

She licked her lips, eyes set on the folder again. "But it's much more complicated than that, Jane."

Lisbon looked him in the eye. She owed him that. "This time the victim is someone we both know. Someone we both know _really_ well."

He saw pain wash across her expression, regret and fear flood her features. She shook her head, attempted to regain her composure. Shakily, "Jane..."

He spoke before she could, a question but also a confirmation in the same sentence. His voice shook, "It's...Grace?"

She nodded, lost for a response momentarily. Finally, "Yes. It is."

He stared back at her for a long second then stood up without another word. He walked over to the kitchen area and put the kettle on the gas again. Then he sighed as he stared out of a window ahead, eyes on a seagull that had taken up residence on his deck rail.

She didn't move from where she sat but asked him quietly, "You okay? I-I know this must come as quite a shock."

He responded, his back to her, "You need me to read the file, tell you if this is a copycat or someone trained by him, I assume."

"If you can, yes. Save us some time so we can focus on the correct way forward."

She thought she heard a snort in response but she couldn't be sure.

"What did the M.E. decide?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "She said it was likely it was someone trained by him. That the..." She drew a breath, "That the cuts were much too like his for someone who didn't know him directly." She added quietly, "But you're the expert where he's concerned and I-I need to be sure."

He turned to face her again, opened his mouth as if to speak but then licked his lips, shut it again. Like he'd seen something in her expression that made him change his mind on what he was going to say. He sighed deeply again, flicked off the gas as the kettle began its whistle and looked to the side instead. He spoke softly, "Of course. Get some air on the deck and I'll come find you when I'm done."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback on the first chapter. I was somewhat nervous so it was lovely to hear your encouragement and positive comments.**

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Chapter 2 – It's Only Lies that I'm Living

Brilliant sunlight against her irises, Lisbon closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She extended her fingers fully then flexed them around the steel deck rail as she arched her body backwards slowly, attempting to release some of the tension that had seemingly rooted itself in her spine and shoulders over the past week. She breathed in the sea air, filled her lungs with it hungrily then expelled it little by little, time and time again. Her mother had told her once that the ocean's air had healing qualities - that just a few moments in its presence could calm the busiest of minds. She'd always been reminded of those words when she'd seen Jane react in much the same fashion her mother had on summer family vacations to Saugatuck, Michigan when she'd witnessed him on a beach or near the sea too. He, like her, visibly assumed a countenance of someone more relaxed and much less encumbered by years of guilt when met with its splendorous sight.

But Teresa Lisbon was different to them both, always wanting to run, explore, investigate, not rest nor live in a quiet moment of contemplation.

Today was no different.

Streaks of blood, flares of red hair and bursts of naked pale skin fought for dominance in the nothingness she was hoping to claim. A horrific tableau of red lightning against white breakers flashed before her instead. A raging storm alive against her pupils, and gaining strength. The air in her lungs felt like water. Drowning her, not keeping her afloat.

For just one minute of quiet in her head, she'd give just about anything. But the smell of something metallic overpowered everything else. Then a drop of moisture hit her upper lip, a single tear that tasted like seawater. It was like God itself was mocking her efforts to find peace in the tranquillity laid out before her.

She didn't deserve it, anyway.

She licked her lips that tasted of salt, opened her eyes and lowered her head, gripped the metal bar tighter until her knuckles turned white.

Frustrated, she exhaled again. Once. Twice. Concentrating solely on the bar of metal before her, she banished the vision to a far corner of her brain. It'd be back as soon as she closed her eyes again for more than a minute, snaking its way out of the shadows to taunt her, remind her.

She stood upright again. Released her hands from the rail and cleared her throat. Jane would be finished reading the report on Van Pelt's murder soon and she had to pull herself back to the semblance of the woman he knew - even-tempered, controlled. He'd see through the charade, of course. He already had in the brief time he'd seen her. He recognised pain and guilt in anyone better than anyone else she knew. But he'd say nothing. And neither would she. And so they'd continue.

Lost in thought, she felt his presence beside her than heard his approach. He leaned both arms over the railing as he clasped his hands together and directed his attention to a neighbouring yacht moving out of its dock ahead of them, its white sails billowing in the light wind of the morning. And so they stood, side by side, quiet only interrupted by the wails of seagulls overhead. She waited, could sense him still processing his thoughts of what he'd just seen and read, and of what to say to her first.

"You found her," he said finally, tone like the soft ocean breeze itself, forehead wrinkled.

"Yes."

She detected a sideways look at her profile before he carried on. "Pasadena?"

Her gaze remained on the horizon. "Yes. We caught a case there when...when it happened."

"Opportune."

She turned her face toward him, frowned. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, eyes still on the yacht as it veered left to explore a bay. He spoke calmly, "Grace's place is-" He paused, hardly skipping a beat, "-was presumably fitted with adequate security measures that would make breaking into it difficult. A low to mid-range hotel room in Pasadena at the CBI's expense is a whole lot easier."

"We figured she must have been watched beforehand. So, yes. Opportune like you said."

He nodded wordlessly. She was grateful he didn't prod further into that morning in Pasadena. For now.

"So?" she said, commandment mustered in her tone like she was talking about any other case. She faced his side. "What do you think?"

He didn't move but his lips curled upwards with a small snort. "You already know what I think, Lisbon."

"No, that's why I'm here. Jane-"

Evenly, "The M.E. is correct in her assessment. This was perpetrated by someone who knows him. I'd look into any contacts he's had since his arrest, letters sent-"

"Yeah, we're doing that. Plus looking over Security Footage around Grace's neighbourhood a few weeks prior."

"Good. What of his disciples that day? Lorelei Martins and his driver. Arrested and then what?"

"Martins is under FBI jurisdiction and placed at a maximum security institution. Grapevine is that she hasn't spoken a word since her arrest."

There was something strange in how he'd phrased his question and in his reaction to how she'd responded. Lisbon couldn't put her finger on what, though, exactly. He'd barely moved and his intonation had remained the same throughout but there was something unsaid underlying to all of it, of that she was certain.

"The driver?" he asked before she could voice her thoughts.

"Heart attack in custody."

He let out a derisive chuckle. "Convenient."

Pithily, "Yeah."

"There were others arrested. Afterwards, I mean. Police, Guards too if I'm not mistaken. Linked to McAllister's network, I assume? Papers didn't say as much but there was speculation they were his people."

So he knew of Blake. Or, at the very least, the beginning of its investigation. "Thought you said you didn't take any interest in the media these days."

"I didn't after a while. Only so often I could bear to see Wainwright preen his way through interviews like he was Captain America." She flushed as he added, "You looked good up there, though, beside him. Very telegenic, Lisbon."

"You know that _none_ of that was my idea, Jane. Wainwright insisted-"

He sighed, "I do. Anyway, none of that comes as a surprise. We always knew he had friends in Law Enforcement."

Relieved, "So, any other thoughts?"

"How many arrested afterwards who were affiliated to him?"

"Six that I know of where enough evidence was found of wrongdoing and a connection to him to charge."

"I'd hazard a guess there are a lot more than six in his circle."

"Suspect so, yeah. He kept sparse records at his house, though. We were lucky to find the number we did. Then the FBI swooped in, began a larger investigation after that, linked it to corruption they'd found in their own house and ours so I'm not much kept in the loop these days with developments on that front. Lots of interviews taking place involving Homeland, FBI, and CBI personnel. There are rumours that there are deals being offered to make some talk and catch higher-ups last I heard."

"Sounds like a significant network of corruption."

She shrugged, "Big enough, I guess, yeah. As I said, though, I'm not exactly kept in the loop. Rumours are it's an important investigation, though, yes. And far-reaching."

"You believe he was in charge of all of it?"

"Instead of just a cell or whatever, you mean? I-I really don't know. Hard to believe a simple sheriff from Napa could be, right?"

"He's not exactly your typical small-time sheriff though, is he?" Jane responded quickly, a dark gleam in his eye.

Inwardly she berated herself, weariness was making her careless with the language she used. "Fair enough. Anyway, he hasn't thrown anyone else under the bus if that's what you're asking from what I've heard. What do you think? Could he _really_ be in charge of _all_ of it?"

He shrugged. "None of my concern either way."

"Then why ask?"

"Curiosity. You've been interviewed as part of this investigation, I take it?"

"Of course. All of the team. Pretty much everyone at the CBI plus his deputies and officers in Napa, too. Other local Law Enforcement as well. FBI wants to talk to you too."

He chuckled softly, "Wish them luck with that."

She matched his smile. "Yeah. Well, right now the guy in charge has enough on his plate to worry too much about interviewing you, I imagine. Anyway-"

"Wait, you said _a guy_? The lovely Agent Darcy isn't taking lead on this?"

"No. I mean, she was involved initially in relation to McAllister's arrest but then a heavy hitter was brought in from out of State to take over."

"Interesting. They really are worried about local... influence."

"It would seem so. Anyway, I reached out to his office after what just happened. I'm thinking that maybe one of the people they've questioned or they suspect is linked to him is responsible for what happened to Van Pelt. Someone they couldn't nail but are still investigating."

"Certainly possible. Someone you trust inside the FBI working on the wider investigation?"

She scoffed. "Not sure _who_ I can trust anymore. CBI's under a microscope, local FBI isn't much better off. The guy they brought in is from Austin and he brought his own team with him. Name's Abbott. I've only met him a handful of times."

"Thoughts?"

She shrugged. "When he interviewed us he certainly didn't pull any punches. He made no secret of the fact he didn't appreciate how McAllister's takedown was managed-"

"On that, we agree," Jane remarked coolly.

She ignored the barbed jibe and continued, "Comes across as naturally suspicious. Smart. Straight shooter my gut tells me. Talk is he's getting results but it's slow progress and he's working carefully with only his most trusted agents. Right now, there seems to be more interviewing and investigating than arresting taking place. Some say he's getting towards the end of the investigation as there hasn't been much progress lately but I say he wouldn't still be here and working the hours he has been if that were true. I think he's just intent on gathering all the information and evidence he can before he strikes."

He nodded, "Ease people into a false sense of security. Then-"

"Pow! Yeah, hit them all at the same time with arrest warrants. That'd be my guess. He'd want to make any significant arrests simultaneously so as not to scatter the pack. That would be my play, anyway."

Jane hummed agreement, "Trust your instincts, Lisbon."

She smiled faintly, a whisper from a yesterday as she heard those words spoken by him once again. "Yeah."

A moment of silence spiralled into another and then another. Too quiet, Lisbon cleared her throat. "Well, okay. I-I guess I better get back. Uh, thank you, Jane. I-I know it can't have been easy to read that file, see those photographs-"

"I'm not going back to the CBI with you, Lisbon."

"I never asked you to. I _wouldn't_. You're out. And I respect that."

Focused eyes sought hers eagerly for the truth. He nodded slowly. "Thank you for telling me about Grace, though. Pass on my condolences to Rigsby and the rest of the team, won't you?"

His dismissive tone and formality ignited irritation in her core. "Will do," she shot back. "I'll just grab the report inside and I'll be out of your hair."

She couldn't have made it back to the kitchen area inside unless she'd run there.

He met her at the doorway, blocked her path as she was leaving. She didn't make eye contact. Exasperated, "Jane."

Stubborn, he didn't move until she looked him in the eye. "What now?" she said, riled.

"That's what he wants," he said gently. "He wants me to go back, play his game again. I-I just _can't_ , Lisbon."

Her shoulders sagged when she saw the pain in his face, anguish in his voice. "I understand," she said honestly. "Maybe-maybe I shouldn't have come here in the first place..."

"Why did you?" he asked her quietly without accusation. "You've seen enough Red John murder scenes to tell this was no amateur or crackpot. You knew the M.E. was correct without needing me to confirm it for you."

She turned back inside, hid her face in case another tear fell. She wiped under her eye hurriedly, anyway. "I-I don't know."

"You were mad at me? That I knew about Grace and hadn't reached out?"

She sniffed. "Maybe. A bit."

She could sense a smile in his voice. "So not _that_ much changes between us after all this time then, eh?"

She let out a small laugh and a tear rolled down her cheek. She breathed out, like a small weight had been lifted, that their friendship hadn't been irreparably damaged after all.

He continued, "And after the anger, you began to worry for me. That something had happened to me too and that's why you hadn't heard from me. You couldn't rest until you saw for yourself I was okay."

She nodded, her back still to him. "Like you said, not that much changes between us."

"You don't need to worry about him sending someone after me too, Lisbon."

She turned to him with a nod, a sad smile. "Yeah, I know. He'll come after someone else you care about next before he gets to you. Plus, he'll want to kill you himself."

He took a step forward, lines on his face like crevices etched in fear. "That's really why you're here? You think that you're next. You're here to say goodbye."

She tutted, rolled her eyes. "You make it sound _way_ more dramatic than it is, Jane. I just...I dunno, I just wanted to see you, make sure you're okay. Make sure I wasn't going crazy and I was following the leads I should. Guess-guess maybe I just needed a sounding board. So thank you for that. Now I have I'll go back, get on with the case. And, well, I thought you'd want to know about Grace if you hadn't heard somehow."

Gravely, "How's Rigsby?"

"About how you'd expect."

He looked to his toes, rocked back and forth, hands in his shorts' pockets. "Have the funeral arrangements been made?"

"No-not yet. Soon though now the M.E. is finished. I didn't think...I mean-I mean I'm sure you're welcome to come pay your respects if that's what you want to do."

Slightly shamefaced, "I'm-I'm not at all sure if it is."

"Okay. Whatever your decision we understand. Grace would have understood. _Rigsby_ will understand. You know that."

He looked at her again. "Tell me you're doing everything you can to protect yourself."

"Of course."

He licked his lips. "Don't go to any crime scenes without backup, answer any mysterious call outs-"

"Jane, I have it handled. Don't worry."

She collected her bag and made for the door again. The pair of them looked at each other, awkwardness palpable. She went outside, "Take care, Jane."

"What did he say?" he called as she escaped him and was about to step off the boat.

Turning, she shielded the sun hitting her eyes with her hand. Before she could ask his footsteps bounded across the passerelle. "McAllister," he confirmed. "You went to see him, didn't you? After Grace, I mean."

"I-I-"

"Don't even think of lying to me, Lisbon."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Yes, I did. And he said what you'd expect him to say. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just sat there and smirked at me when I asked him about her."

She went to leave again.

"He said something," he insisted at her back.

She sighed loudly as she faced him once more. "It's not important."

Sharply, "Tell me what he said."

She closed her eyes with a sigh. Then, "Okay. He said he'd only talk to me about Grace if you went to see him with me."

"You weren't going to tell me that? Or is that really why you came here? Then you changed your mind when you saw me."

"Of-of course not. He's trying to coax you into his game again as you said. I don't know why I even went to see him in the first place. I just needed to look him in the eye, I suppose. And why would I tell you something like that? I meant what I said. You're out. And you should stay out. I didn't come here to guilt trip you."

She pointed at the parking bay of the Marina. "I have to get back." She peered at the yacht again. "Change the name registered here or move to another Marina, Jane. If I found you then anyone can. You should be more careful too. Just in case."

* * *

Stars twinkled overhead as Jane sat alone on the top deck of his yacht later that night, a cold beer in his hand. He leaned back against the seat cushions and gazed upwards as he took a swig from the green bottle.

A voice called out, "Patrick, you up there?"

He didn't answer, sighed, drank instead.

Soft footsteps followed and Ellie's voice broke the quiet. "Hey," she smiled, "you didn't hear me?"

"How was tennis?"

"Tennis was eight hours ago," she laughed. She saw the beer cooler beside him and helped herself to one. She wrapped the skirt of her dress around her legs, yanked on an oversized navy sweater she was holding. She eased herself into a cross-legged position on the deck opposite him. "Cheers," she said, picking up the bottle again and raised it in a toast as she popped the cap.

"Cheers," he drawled, mirroring her.

"Another nice clear night, eh? Bit cooler this evening, though, hm?" she said.

"Hm."

"Everything okay?"

"How was your day?"

She frowned, "Better than yours by the look of it. Something happen? You're in more of a contemplative mood than usual."

He smiled without warmth. "You could say that."

Her eyes lit up. "Shit, I-I totally forgot. You had a visitor this morning."

That caught his attention and the bottle stilled at his lips. "You met her?"

"No. Not really. I was late for my match so just ran past her, really. Introduced myself but...god, thinking back it was probably pretty rude of me to run off like I did without even asking her what her name was."

"Wouldn't worry about it, she doesn't care all that much about social etiquette. And even less so right now."

"So, who was she? That woman you mentioned who you got talking to a couple of days ago and wants to book some sailing lessons for her and her husband?"

He shrugged, "No, not her. An old friend."

Ellie frowned at Jane's reluctance to explain further then suddenly her eyes widened. She gasped, "Oh my god! She was Teresa Lisbon!?"

He nodded with a faint smile, "You recognised her, did you?"

She rolled her eyes. "God, I'm an absolute idiot. Only just added it up. I was half asleep still, I guess, didn't really get a good look at her at the time. Damn, been a while since you last saw her, huh?" More interested, "What did she want?"

He said nothing as he leaned forward and put the beer bottle on the deck. He steepled his fingers, ran his palms against each other. "She came to tell me something."

Impatiently, "Yes? What?"

He looked straight at Ellie. "She came to tell me a friend of ours had been murdered."

Eyes like saucers, "Someone else you worked with at the CBI?"

"An agent named Grace, yes."

She moved closer, rested a hand on his knee. "Oh god, I'm so so sorry, Patrick."

He placed a hand on top of hers, squeezed it gently before releasing it quickly. He got up and sauntered to the same deck rail where he'd stood beside Lisbon earlier that day. He murmured more to himself than his companion, "She was a good person. A good friend to me. A good friend to everyone who knew her."

Ellie stood up and came beside him. Gently, "What happened to her? How was she killed?"

He shook his head, swallowed lightly, " _He_ made it happen."

Worried, "McAllister?"

A single nod.

"Shit."

"Mmm."

"So, what does that mean?"

He faced her, eyes questioning.

She asked, "Does it mean you're going back to Sacramento? Going back to work for the CBI again?"

He faced front again, took another sip of beer. "I already told Lisbon I wouldn't be going back."

"She asked you to?"

"No."

"Would you have said yes if she had?"

He shrugged, "I made my decision months ago, Ellie. And then...then when I met you, well, I have more to my life than him now, right?"

She blushed, slipped an arm around his and leaned into his shoulder, "You sure that's enough? You spent a lot of your life there. You told me working at the CBI saved you after everything you went through before."

When he didn't respond she added, "You're sure she can handle it?" Lisbon?"

He said nothing.

"Patrick?"

He pulled his arm from hers, gave her a short comforting shoulder hug then went to fetch another beer. "What would you like for dinner? My turn to cook."

"Patrick." Her tone demanded him to look at her.

Slightly irritated, "She has a team behind her, Ellie. Plus FBI back up. And she's on the right course of action, I'm sure. She's a good detective and she won't rest until she discovers who killed Grace. She's not alone in this."

"So you're not needed? That's what you're telling me?"

He rolled his eyes. "What do you care?"

"Because I don't want you staying away just because of me."

"Who says I am?"

"Because you're annoyed with me now and I don't want you to resent me later on-"

"I'm only annoyed because you keep going on about it-"

"If I wasn't here what would you be doing right now? Hm? Driving to Sacramento I'd bet."

"Difference is you _are_ here." Softer, "Look, I don't want to fight about this. I've had a hell of a day, all right? And there are more factors at play to this than you being in my life now, I promise."

She pursed her lips. "Okay. I'm sorry. But sleep on it, promise me that? And if you feel differently in the morning, tell me. We'll figure something out if you feel you need to go back."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Help

"Your coffee," Jane said brightly to Ellie the following morning as he nodded to a cup on the kitchen counter.

"Thanks," she replied, entering the galley in a grey fleece dressing gown and drying her hair with a towel. She stopped and sipped the caffeine-rich brew ravenously. "Mmm, best cup of the day," she enthused.

Jane removed a frying pan from a metal hook in front of him and moved it to the stove. "Eggs?"

She hung the towel around her neck then watched him put the pan on the stove. As he removed a whisk from a drawer she said, "You've decided to go back, then?"

He stilled momentarily before he cracked an egg into a bowl next to him. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you haven't given me your usual lecture about me drinking too much coffee this morning like you normally do."

"You make me sound like some kind of tyrannical despot. Plus I had no idea I was so predictable."

"Uh-huh."

He turned his head, smiled at her as he raised an eyebrow. "You really got me going back to the CBI from that? Teaching you some of the tricks of my trade was maybe not my best idea, after all."

She challenged him for an unequivocal answer, quirking an eyebrow of her own in return, "Is that your roundabout way of saying I'm right?"

He went back to cracking eggs. "I am considering it," he said quietly.

"You've been considering it all night. You didn't sleep at all, did you? Woke me up stomping around on the upper deck all night long."

"I don't _stomp_ ," he said petulantly. He looked at her again with a shrug. "But, yes, the decision of what to do...it's kept me awake most of the night."

"I'll be okay here alone," she told him. "You need to do what you think is right for you, Patrick. You're not required to look after me. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

He pursed his lips. "Thing is, Elle, I'm not at all sure I know what's right or wrong in this situation."

"Your friends at the CBI need you. Teresa Lisbon needs you. That's what you believe, correct?"

He shrugged. "My help would...expedite matters, I believe, yes. But it's not that simple."

"Because McAllister _also_ wants you back there."

He leaned against the counter and shook his head. He sighed, "Yes."

"So what's more important to you? Helping them and also giving him what he wants most in the process? Or not helping them and, therefore, not giving him what he wants either."

"There was a time when that question would have been easy to answer. Now? Now, not so much."

"Look, I don't know a lot about what happened between you and him over the years. You know, _before_ you knew who he was. Just the bullet points, really, and the few things you've told me since we've met that I've dragged out of you. But what makes you think he's going to stop with your friend Grace? He's a serial killer. You told me he was a sociopath. And if he wants you back to play - to play out whatever the hell this is between you - then-"

"-Then he'll kill someone else and then someone else and then someone else until I go back. It's not like I haven't considered this already, Ellie. Why else do you suppose I've been awake all night?"

"So? What have you concluded?"

He looked to his feet, sighed. "That I have no real choice in the matter, do I? Or I wait until Lisbon arrives again to tell me about Rigsby or Cho...or Cho and Rigsby arrive to tell me about..." He swallowed thickly, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence. Jane stared at her again. "Why are you so in favour of this?" He joked lightly, "You want this place to yourself that much, huh?"

Ellie smiled back. "Sure, why not? Get some parties going, you know. Invite some guys back to rock this joint."

"Seriously, though, why?"

She puffed out a breath. "Because I can see it's something you might regret if you don't. It'll eat away at you, slowly, quietly. It's not like you've forgotten him all these months, have you? I know you've tried to move on and put that part of your life behind you but...but a lot of the time you seem like you're still stuck back there. He's still in your head every day."

He looked to the ceiling, shook his head. His voice cracked, "I know I haven't exactly been very...open. Not in the way you want me to be. That's-that's hard for me. But lately, I've been trying-"

Softly, "I _know_ you have. But maybe if you can first find some kind of resolution to that part of your life then-"

Steely-eyed, "The only resolution is for him to be dead."

She swallowed, "I-I know you believe that to be true-"

"It _is_ true."

"I don't know if that's even possible anymore and neither do you. But, in the meantime, you can get justice for your friend Grace, right? Find _her_ killer. That would be a win against him, no?"

He shrugged, said nothing.

She continued, "Anyway, it's up to you at the end of the day whatever you decide. All I'm saying is that I think you should help if you can. And that I don't want to be the excuse why you don't."

"I would _never_ blame you for my decision-"

"Okay, good. And, well, maybe I need the time too. Time for myself. After-after what I've been through I need to know I can stand on my own two feet and not rely on you like I have been. That I can be alone and not terrified every second."

He nodded. Softly, "Are you certain you're ready for that?"

She shrugged, sighed as she lifted the coffee cup to her lips again. Gravely, "Only one way to find out for sure." She took a long sip before she spoke again. "But don't think for a second because I'm in favour of this it doesn't mean I'm not going to be worried sick about you the whole time you're away, Patrick. Worried about what that monster is going to put you and your friends through. You've already been through so much with him. Plus, we haven't even had a lot of time to get to know each other yet and what if-"

"I know. But we _will_ have it. I promise you that."

"Good. I'll hold you to that. So, you're going back? It's decided?"

He took a deep breath. "I guess it is."

She smiled lightly. "Okay then. Now, before you go get ready make me those eggs of yours one more time."

He bowed lightly, "Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Wow," Ellie gasped, as Jane appeared in the doorway to the kitchen cabin. "You certainly spruce up well!"

"Thank you," he preened as he felt the smoothness of his chin looking at himself in the cooker hood. He patted his navy vest, checked himself out some more. "Doubt I'd get away with the shorts and the unruly beard in the CBI, I'm afraid."

 _It's a process, huh?_ sounded in his head, causing him to smile.

"You _really_ look great!" she beamed.

He quirked an eyebrow, bent his head to the side. With a smile, "Do you _have_ to sound quite so surprised?"

She chuckled and ran to the table opposite the stove. "I have something for you before you go." Opening a white plastic bag she fished out six cell phones.

"Were they having a sale at Radio Shack?" he quipped.

"Very funny." She pushed three in front of him. "These are yours. All burners." She gestured to the remaining phones. "And these are mine."

"O-kay?" Jane frowned.

"When we call each other we use these. But just one call to each phone. Then we dispose of them immediately. That way they can't be traced to either one of us. Right? Or at least it's a lot more difficult. I think. Anyway, I know how paranoid you are so I got them while you were in the shower. _After_ you gave me the lecture about moving the yacht someplace else and denouncing any knowledge of you to anyone I speak to after you leave."

"Your safety is paramount. And-and I have no idea if he knows about you – I highly suspect he does not – but I'm not taking any chances on that score once I go back to Sacramento and there are more eyes on me."

"Yeah, yeah, so you said-"

"Ellie, it's important you understand-"

She rolled her eyes. She raised her voice. "Yes! I get it, Patrick. I'll do as you say. Now, listen. The phone thing, it should work, right?"

"Jeez, calm down. Anyway, yes, at least I-I think so." He picked up one of the phones in its packaging, turned it in his hands. "What made you think of doing that?"

She shrugged, "You're not the only one here with a brain, you know."

He looked up at her. "Hmm, yeah...but seriously?"

She admitted sheepishly, "Saw it on a reality show one time. Sue me."

He raised his eyebrows. "You watch reality shows? We need to talk about that."

"Well, not anymore obviously since you won't get yourself a TV in here."

"Another point in its favour," he retorted with a smile. Then, "Don't even burner phones need to be registered these days too? You know, terrorism and all that?"

"I took care of it, don't worry."

"How?"

She looked away, "Told each store I had a husband who beat me and had to get one to call a shelter if it got really bad. That he was a cop so it was important registration couldn't be traced."

Soberly, "They all believed you?"

She pulled her designated phones back towards her. With feigned cheeriness, "Sure, no problem. I took Drama in High School so it was a breeze."

"You alright?" he asked gently.

She tilted her chin upwards. "Right as rain. Okay, so that's the plan? How we keep in touch. A call at least once a week? Good enough?"

"Sure. But what happens if I'm away for more than a few weeks?"

Disappointment flooded her features before she could cover it. "Let's play it by ear. When we're on our last phone each then we'll meet up or talk about what to do next."

* * *

"Lisbon, please come in." Wainwright greeted her with a brusque hook of his forefinger and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. Without preamble, "So, where are we?"

"I have a meeting set up with Supervisory Special Agent Abbott this afternoon."

He moved papers around his desk. "Yes, so I've heard."

"You have?"

"We have daily calls."

"Oh? I wasn't aware-"

"He said he'll do everything in his power to help us find Van Pelt's killer."

Still difficult to be faced with that truth spoken so freely and without feeling she didn't respond immediately.

Wainwright looked at her for the first time since she'd entered his office. He recognised her surprise and backpedalled, "I-I'm sorry, Lisbon, I-"

"It's fine," she replied quickly. "That's good news about Abbott. Thank you for reaching out, sir."

He leaned back, picked up a pencil from his desk and rolled it between his fingers as he studied her. Softly, "How _are_ you doing, Lisbon?"

The condescension in his tone was enough for her to curl one hand into a fist as she sat with her hands in her lap. Evenly, "I'm fine."

"Your team?"

"Coping. Doing their jobs. I have no complaints."

"Even Agent Rigsby?"

She licked her lips. "Of course."

He nodded slowly. "Sure? You know, I'm getting all sorts of pressure to take you and your team off this. It's personal and really you shouldn't be running this investigation. If we weren't already so short staffed then-"

"Please don't. I got this. And sure, it's personal. It _matters_ to us. That's why we'll do _everything_ in our power to catch the bastard responsible. We'll work harder than anyone else and you know it."

He murmured acceptance. "For now it's yours. Anyway, Agent Abbott wants to talk to you further about Grace's case this afternoon."

"I'm sorry? What does that mean? Are you saying he wants the FBI to _take_ it from us? Can't you push back? Tell him-"

He motioned to the door with his head. "Talk to Abbott then come back and we'll talk again if you have any issues." His tone was unconvincing and that any _issues_ she might have would be ignored. Without waiting for a response he dismissed her, "That's it, Lisbon. Thanks. Please close the door on your way out."

* * *

She was still seething when she made it back to the bullpen. These were the times she missed Jane most. Well, not just _these_ times but currently she'd have been thrilled to have been able to vent to him about Wainwright. FBI was running roughshod all over him and he was letting them. They were muscling in and he was helping them along, kowtowing to Abbott like he was his office junior. Even if all Jane did was sit there and listen to her with a stupid smug smirk on his face as she let loose her frustration it was better than screaming into the ether alone. God, she missed him. Seeing him again the day before had done nothing but make the ache of being without him in her life return with a vengeance.

She marched into her office, laid her head in her hands then peeked out to the bullpen to make sure no one had noticed her slamming the door shut. She noticed Grace's chair sitting there vacant, waiting for her like she was on a coffee run. The redhead's parents were stopping by the following day to pick up her stuff. Another set of grieving parents she'd have to shake hands with and offer sympathies. Christ, she hated her job sometimes.

She picked up a pen, glad of the minutiae of bureaucracy that overtime requests still had to be completed in triplicate no matter the mere presence of the CBI, in general, and of her team, in particular, were being threatened more and more every day. She started completing the document, her thoughts drifting back to Jane again as the pen scrawled over the page of its own accord so often she'd filled in the same details over and over for years now.

She smiled despite her bad mood. _What was he thinking with that beard?_ Another occasion she would have commented on it, made fun of him for it. He looked good though. Relaxed upon first impression. Until she'd dropped her bombshell. Honestly, she hadn't known what or who she'd find when she got there. Some shadow of the man she knew? Someone who, without Red John or the CBI (or, selfishly, her) in his life had fallen further? A small part of her was envious. Jealous, even, that he appeared to be flourishing without any of them. Maybe this new woman in his life was the cause of his reformation. She clenched her teeth at that, despised herself how that possibility stung her.

 _I meant it. Mean_ _it_ he'd said the last time they'd spoken in the attic all those months ago. And she'd believed him. And maybe he _had_ meant it. At the time. Maybe accepting it and voicing it made him realise he actually could love someone after his wife's death, after all. But it could never have worked with her. Even if the outcome that day had been different and she hadn't interfered with what he'd planned for McAllister she'd always remind him of Red John. Always remind him of why they'd met. And that reminder forever hanging over his head wasn't someone he could ever have a future with. He needed someone less tainted by that, someone clean, someone new. And maybe, just maybe, he'd found just that with this Ellie.

She sighed, irritated by letting her mind wander like that. Ashamed she was thinking about herself and not about what was important once again. Jane had the power to mess with her head even when he wasn't around. She checked her watch, less an hour to go until her meeting with Abbott. Her pen quickened on the page.

* * *

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, the combination of new spectacles and eighteen hour days mostly spent reading files bringing on a mammoth of a headache. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of headache pills. Dennis Abbott moved off his chair and walked around his temporary office located opposite Sacramento's Capitol Building, brought some feeling back to his backside and legs from the sedentary position he'd been in all morning. He took two pills, gulping them down with a glass of water. He looked out the window at the building opposite with a long sigh. _Still so much to do_ he thought to himself wearily.

Senior Agent Kim Fischer knocked on his door and he called her in. "Fischer."

"Hey, boss," the attractive thirty-something said as she entered. "Interviewed Reede Smith again this morning. You said you wanted an update."

He nodded as he sat at his desk again. "And?"

She shook her head. "He's not talking."

He sighed as he shook his head from side to side, his headache increasing in intensity. Briskly, "Remind me, Fischer. How many this week?"

"Ten interviews. Two where we were able to manage confessions. Low-level Blake members."

"Twenty per cent is not what I call an impressive success rate, do you?"

She flushed slightly. "I-I know, boss. We're trying. And it's not like we're not going at them hard. But these are people who work in Law Enforcement. They know _all_ of our methods to gain confessions and from criminals in how to cover their tracks."

He knew she was right. As the weeks had passed by it had become increasingly difficult to get the names of the higher-ups in The Blake Association. And even when they managed to do that, to pin something on them credible enough to put them away was like climbing Everest some days. His agents were exhausted, too working long shifts away from their homes and under constant death threats.

"Then we need to come up with some methods they're not familiar with," he replied.

"You have an idea? Because we'll try _anything_ at this point."

He scanned a folder on his desk with a wry smile. He tapped it with two fingers. "I have a meeting with Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI this afternoon."

Fischer puffed out a breath. "Is this the Patrick Jane thing again? Boss, I thought you discounted that idea months ago-"

"Desperate times, desperate measures, Fischer."

"He's a loose cannon even if you _could_ persuade him to help us in the first place. And besides that, Lisbon's loyal to him. We saw that when we interviewed her months back. And even if she does know where he is what makes you think she'll tell you? And even if she did what makes you think he'd want to help us?"

"You let me worry about that."

* * *

"Agent Lisbon, please come in and take a seat," Abbott said amiably when Lisbon entered his office a short time later.

She did so, folded her hands across her lap and looked at him expectantly.

"I was sorry to hear about your agent, Lisbon. Van Pelt was an admirable agent. Strong and smart."

She held back an eye roll. He'd only met her once and when he had he'd turned it into an interrogation regarding McAllister and his cohorts. "Thank you, sir," she replied automatically. "She was."

He opened a file on his desk. "Agent Wainwright tells me he believes McAllister had it ordered."

 _He only believes that because I told him that first_. "Yes, that's correct."

He closed the file and settled back against his chair. "Which quite obviously means you believe it to be true also."

"Yes."

He nodded slowly, assessing each short response carefully. He waved his hands around the office. "You can speak freely, Agent."

Perplexed, "Have I not been?"

He gave a short snort of a laugh. "Okay, straight to business then. You want some details of my ongoing investigation. Specifically, anyone we've questioned where there may be a personal connection to McAllister. A close enough connection where they shared the same...ethos. Someone whom he trusted to carry on his work to his...very precise specifications."

"Yes. Red John - McAllister, that is – he has a hatred for copycats. Always has. He'd strike down someone who tried to copy his work prior to this."

"And this is different because?"

"Because this time it's someone he's trained personally. It's someone he trusts like you say. It's the only thing that makes sense. Plus..." Her gaze shifted to her lap and she took a small breath, "plus he knew how killing her this way would have a greater impact. He could have had her killed in a number of ways but he chose _his_ signature for it. He's a showman. He wanted it to be known it was he and not just another member of Blake who ordered it."

She raised her chin upwards again, defiance set in her expression. "He wants to punish my team for capturing him. And maybe he'll escape jail time in the process. But if we can find this-this apprentice or whatever then we can charge them both with murder."

"That's not strictly true though, is it?"

"I'm-I'm sorry?"

He moved his head from side to side. "It's not your team he wants to punish. It's Patrick Jane."

She was ready for that question. "Well, Jane was part of my team when he was arrested. So, the same is still true."

"Come come, Lisbon. We both know Jane and McAllister have a _deeply_ personal relationship."

She kept her tone even. "Naturally, Jane wanted him caught more than anyone that day."

"Hmm," Abbott said under his breath, "caught, right." He continued, "Talking of Jane, have you spoken to him lately?"

She blinked, "Uh, no-no I haven't. Haven't talked to him since the day we arrested McAllister."

"Strange."

"Why? After McAllister, he wanted to leave the CBI. He did what he set out to accomplish. It's understandable he'd want to move on afterwards, isn't it?"

"Oh, I understand _that_. What I don't understand is why that meant he burned every relationship he made in the process. I mean, he was on your team for a long time. No lasting friendships in all that time? No loyalty? Little cold of him just to cut and run like that once he gets what he wants, don't you think?"

She raised an eyebrow. _Did he really think she was going to roll over on Jane because of some barbed remarks like that?_

She smiled, "If anything I think it was the smart choice for him. Gives him a real chance of a new life away from bad memories." She added, "It was something I'd actually hoped for since I first met him. That he'd move on from his grief and his quest for justice. I was pleased if anything when he did. I didn't take it personally."

He studied her until a flush flooded her cheeks. _Don't say anything else, Teresa. He's using silence to get you to run your mouth about Jane._

She stared back at him keenly.

Abbott leaned forward, threaded his fingers. "So you're confirming to me that Patrick Jane hasn't contacted you or your team since Van Pelt's murder?"

 _It wasn't a lie_. "No, he hasn't. You'd need to check with my team if he has with them." She continued, "Sir, aren't we getting off topic here? Shouldn't we get back to the reason I'm here?"

He sighed, removed his glasses, wiped them on a white handkerchief from his pocket. "I want to do everything I can to help you catch your man, Agent Lisbon."

"Good, because-"

"But I can't give you what you want."

He put his glasses back on and addressed her seriously. "I'm in charge of a highly private investigation, Lisbon. Frankly, you don't have the clearance to see my files on any suspects I may or may not have questioned. I'm sorry."

She gaped at him for a second. Finally, "So you wanted me to come here just so you blow me off and question me about Patrick Jane instead? That's it? Sir-"

"Calm down, Agent Lisbon. I have a counter offer for you."

Before she interrupted he added, "And it doesn't involve Jane before you ask."

Warily, "What is it?"

"I _do_ want to help you catch your killer. It could help me in my investigation too, after all. So, currently, you're without a fulltime technical analyst-"

"What? What's that got to do with anything? Besides, we're coping fine-"

"No. You're floundering."

"With all due respect, you don't know what the hell you're talking about."

He lowered his biting tone. Gently, "Lisbon, I'm not the enemy here. I meant what I said about Van Pelt earlier, believe it or not. And yes, I didn't know her well personally but I'm well acquainted with her personnel file and I've read all the cases she worked on since she joined the CBI. She was an extraordinary talent. And a big loss to your team."

"You read...all?"

"Agent Wainwright has been most helpful in sharing CBI information with me in order to assist me with my investigation."

 _I bet he has. Shame it's not a_ _two-way_ _deal._

"And I appreciate that," he continued smoothly. "So I want to do something to help the CBI in return. I'm willing to send one of the FBI's best newly qualified tech analysts to assist you. A little interagency cross co-operation."

 _Beware of Greeks bearing gifts more like._

"Use him how you wish. He is acquainted with work ongoing in my investigation so will work as a bridge between us. He will be able - under my direction - to share relevant _necessary_ information with you and vice versa. We can then both operate independently but also with a shared purpose in bringing this perpetrator to justice."

 _Did he really think he was doing her a favour?_

She regulated her tone. "Look, I appreciate the offer but I really think it would be a whole lot simpler if I could just see your files. Not _all_ of them, if you so wish. But anyone who you have talked to who you feel has a close enough connection to McAllister-"

"No."

"No?"

"No." He licked his lips. "Look, you want it straight?"

 _At last_. "Please."

"I don't know if I can trust you, Agent Lisbon. You're asking me to divulge details to you – a near stranger – that some people who've worked for me for years don't know. I need to see for myself first how you work."

"If you've read CBI files then you already know how I operate."

He said nothing but raised both eyebrows.

She blinked slowly, realised what he was getting at. "Ha. That's exactly why you don't want me to see your files. Because you _don't_ like how I work cases."

"Now? Now I'm betting you're drawing inside the lines. Perhaps. Perhaps not. When Jane worked for you there is any number of references I could give you where you did not. And this case, in particular, is personal. More chance than ever you'll do whatever is necessary to catch this killer whether you follow regulations or not."

"That's an assumption you have no right to make. And _even_ if all that were true Jane doesn't work for me anymore."

"True. But I don't know how much he's corrupted you over the years you did work together."

Her voice grew louder. "I take offence to that. And sending your _spy_ in to watch everything my team and I do-!"

Sharply, "I don't care if you're offended." He took a breath, smiled thinly, " _If_ we're being entirely honest with each other here." He added evenly, "So, yes, you _will_ be watched. And then judged. By me. Just be thankful I'm sending in someone to help you and not supervise you directly. Or remove you and your team from the case entirely."

She bit back, "Newsflash, I don't work for you."

With a smile, "Maybe someday you will."

"I'd rather eat my own-!"

"Wainwright has already agreed to my proposal so your objections are null and void. Special Agent Jason Wylie will join your team the day after next."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for all your comments to the first two chapters. Apologies I haven't had time to reply to those I could for the last chapter. Especially love all the theorising about Ellie (her backstory will unfold in later chapters, I promise). First, I have to get Jane back to the CBI.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Everybody Hurts

"Teresa! Wait up!"

Lisbon's black block heel boots skidded to a stop on the white tiles of the third floor of the Sacramento FBI Offices, the swift _click-clack_ over its shiny surface silenced as she raced towards the elevator. After her meeting with Dennis Abbott, she wanted nothing more than to get out of the building. Images of her running fast and free in gym gear or taking an hour for herself at the gun range filled her head, tempting her.

To expel her anger any way she could.

To take back some control of her life any way she could.

She turned, irises shining with unconcealed annoyance as she sought the person who'd stopped her. She spotted them easily, his tall frame swerving through a crowd of fellow FBI agents as it rushed towards her. She rolled her eyes as he caught up to her. "Mancini," she sighed.

He drew a long breath. "You trying out for the 100 metres in the next Olympics?" he said, still panting.

Her lips curled into a scowl. "What do you want, Gabe?"

Mancini frowned, "You okay, Teresa?"

As her eyes quickly veered towards another long roll he added, "Damn, I'm sorry. Of course, you're not. I-I heard about your Agent. God, I'm sorry about Van Pelt."

She softened. "Thank you, Gabe. Sorry. Bad day," she shrugged.

He nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Been a lot of those lately, huh? How you holding up?"

She shrugged, changed the subject. "Sorry I haven't been to a game in a while. I have literally no idea when I'll get the time to play poker again. Not enough hours in the day." She gestured towards the elevator. "Anyway, thanks for your condolences, good to see you. Gotta get back."

He placed a hand on her elbow as she moved away. "Ah, actually...I-I was hoping we could catch up. You know – properly."

"What? Why? Sounds urgent."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, looked around. Quietly, "I-I could use some advice."

She crinkled her brow. "Really?"

His eyes shone with sincerity. "Yes."

"From me? Why? What's this all about, Mancini?"

A further furtive shake of his head made her frown deepen as he replied, tone lowered, "Not here. But it has to be you, I-I think. I need to talk to someone I know I can trust."

She almost laughed. "You trust me? Why? We hardly know each other. I mean - not really. Outside of a few poker games and some cases where we've both been involved we've barely talked in the past."

He bit his lip. "Yeah. I-I guess that's true. But this is... Look, I know you have a lot on your plate right now but it's important. I wouldn't ask otherwise." He looked her straight in the eye. "Please, Teresa."

Caught off guard by the earnestness in his expression she took a step back from the eagerness in his gaze. "O-okay. If it's that important. I guess. You wanna grab a coffee?"

"I have meetings this afternoon. Late for one now, actually. This evening? We could grab a drink."

The sound of a bourbon right now sounded like heaven, even better than an hour at the Range did. But she hesitated. "Mancini, this isn't your way of asking me on a _date,_ is it? Because we've been through that already."

His chuckled lightly. "No! Of course not. I should be so lucky, huh?"

She blushed slightly. "Sure, whatever. Okay, then. Say O'Malley's at eight?"

"No. Not there. I'll text you someplace else. Okay?"

Intrigued, "Sure. Okay."

* * *

She arrived back in the bullpen a short time later, witnessed the same scene she'd seen every time she'd entered it in the late afternoons of the past week. Dusk approaching, orange hues travelled through the office blinds, dust particles dancing where light still held on while the rest of the office darkened to muted Fall colours. Flashes of sienna and dark amber fell on the leather couch as it sat against the brickwork wall. And as the sun set, shadows of bars the colour of night travelled across the back of Rigsby's blue shirt as he sat at his desk. Hunched over a case file he wrote notes feverishly. A sandwich sat beside him, untouched.

He didn't look up to greet her. A slight tense of his shoulders told her he'd heard her approach, though.

Cho acknowledged her presence with a nod and she cast him a worried glance, eyes darting to the top of Rigsby's head. Cho shrugged, went back to his own scribbling.

She cleared her throat. "Hey, guys. Cho, a word in my office."

He got up from his desk and followed her inside.

"Close the door," she said quietly while putting her bag down then sitting behind the desk.

He obliged and sat in the chair opposite. Without preamble, "How'd it go with Abbott?"

She pursed her lips, eyes trained on Rigbsy outside. A moment passed. "How's he doing?" she asked her second in charge softly.

"Same."

She leaned forward, allowed a long breath to escape as she finally directed her attention to Cho. Evenly, "Abbott's sending us someone to assist in Grace's investigation that apparently has valuable IT skills."

"Abbott? They're FBI, you mean?"

"Yep."

"Since when does the FBI send agents to work here?"

"Since they feel like it, it seems." She used air quotes. "Inter-Agency cross collaboration and co-operation."

"Bull. What's Abbott's real angle?"

"Exactly? Undetermined. But, whatever it is, these are the cards we've been dealt so we've no option but to make it work."

For a second, she looked around her office. Finally, with fresher eyes, she noticed the environment she'd been working in lately. Really saw it for the first time in days. Files sat on the floor in front of her cream couch, heaped in makeshift piles ready to fall over. Half empty coffee mugs and plates littered surfaces. A trash can sat in a far corner, brimming with takeout boxes. She'd been working so many hours she'd missed the Cleaning Staff pick up twice.

As much as she hated to admit it, Abbott had a point in saying her team was floundering. That _she_ was floundering. Cases were piling up alongside Grace's murder investigation and there weren't enough bodies or hours of the day to work them quickly never mind effectively. Collective shock followed by their loss setting in over the past week had fractured work efficiency. Were they even still capable of doing their jobs at all? Each team member was dealing with a new host of feelings and responsibilities as they came to terms with Grace's death. Rigsby was poised like a cobra ready to attack anyone who dared approach and venture an opinion he didn't like. Cho had taken it upon himself to ensure he kept his friend's threat level contained as best he could, fearful Rigsby would end his career with misplaced anger as they directed interviews together. It was a delicate balance and Cho was more worried about his partner than he'd ever say. And then there was herself - Lisbon. The gruesome discovery of Grace's body was on perpetual replay in her head along with the guilt that hammered at her heart every day since.

"You think we're being selfish here?" she suddenly asked Cho. "I mean - do you think we should pass Grace's case to another team or to the FBI? A team less...invested? Maybe-maybe that's the right thing to do here, Cho. Hubris isn't going to help us get justice for her."

He came back at her quickly. Assured, "No. Besides, who else would we trust to get it right these days and not whitewash or allow the bastard to walk. We'll manage."

She turned her tone professional, assuaged by his confidence. Maybe he was right. And maybe working the case was what _he_ needed to work through his grief. "Okay. Good. Then we're on the same page. So, we play nice with this FBI agent they're sending us. Okay?"

Cho looked through Lisbon's office blinds towards his partner. "All right. You want me to tell him?"

She shook her head. "No. I'll do it tomorrow. It's my job-"

"Boss, how he is right now. Especially with you-"

"I'll do it, Cho. I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"No, that's it. Thanks."

He got up to leave.

"Hey," she added, "how are _you_ doing, Kimball? I-I don't think I've asked since... She was your friend and colleague too."

He stopped, hand on the door handle. "I'm good." He turned to face her again. "Talking of hubris, have you spoken to Jane yet?"

She sighed with a small smile. "Tracked him down yesterday, actually."

He moved back towards her desk. A flicker of surprise slid through his stoic facade.

"He hadn't heard about Grace," she continued. "He's kinda been living off the Grid, I suppose you'd call it."

"Is he coming back?"

She peered into the bullpen, her gaze falling to the brown leather couch again. "No. I don't think he is."

She faced him, reinforced her tone. "But that doesn't mean we're not capable of catching this bastard ourselves. Right?"

Lisbon could only hope Cho would believe her words a little more than she did herself.

* * *

Mancini's frame stretched to wave at her from a booth at the far end of a bar near Sacramento University. Lisbon nodded back, trudged through a wave of students downing shots as they cheered at something on a TV screen behind the bar. She flung herself into the booth opposite him. "What the hell kind of place is this to meet? You going through a mid-life crisis, Mancini?"

He peacocked, "Hey, I'm still in my prime, Teresa."

She looked at a female blonde student walking past their table wearing a tight T-shirt and short white shorts. She raised her eyebrows. "Uh-huh."

He pushed a bottle of beer towards her with a small chuckle. "Here, you look like you need this."

She resisted the urge to down it and took a small sip instead. These days, she couldn't be impaired by alcohol any day or night no matter how much she'd like to be. "So, what's this all about?"

"Straight to it, huh? Okay. Well, firstly I picked this place because it's not exactly a cop hangout joint, is it?"

She picked at the label on the bottle. She'd already guessed he wanted a meeting without prying cop eyes when he'd refused to go to O'Malley's. Wearily, "And secondly?"

He looked from side to side before he spoke. Quietly, "You know my partner Reede Smith, right?"

She thought for a second. "Um, not really. I mean – I know _of_ him, of course. But I've only met him a few times. Why?"

He leaned in. "I saw you come out of Abbott's offices today. Are you on the inside of this _Blake_ thing he's running?"

She laughed. _If only he knew_. "Well, if I was I'm hardly likely to tell you or anyone else about it, am I?"

"Okay. Fair point."

"Mancini, if all you asked me here for was the inside scoop then you're going to be disappointed-"

"It's not." He drank some beer. "Sorry. Look, I've been questioned by one of his agents. Fischer?"

"Yeah, I've met her. You're hardly the only one, Gabe. They've been questioning pretty much everyone since they got into town."

"Hm, yeah. But-but she's questioned me _numerous_ times in the past few weeks."

Solemnly, "About Reede Smith specifically, you mean?"

He nodded, shrugged as he took another sip.

"And have you been honest with her, answered her questions without equivocation?"

Another shrug. "More or less."

She raised an eyebrow. "What does _that_ mean?"

"You know how it is sometimes." He paused, another shake of the head. "Sometimes-sometimes you cut corners. No big deal, right?"

"Depends on the corners you cut and why you cut them. But I'm guessing this is more than not completing some paperwork on time or you wouldn't be asking for my advice."

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you because well, firstly, I thought you of all people would understand. You do what gets the job done, right?"

"Why would you say that? What does that even _mean_?"

"Oh, come on, Teresa. Patrick Jane wasn't exactly by the book, was he? He was pretty infamous for writing his own playbook. I never got to meet him personally but everyone's heard about him at the office. Always just on the right side of legal. Well, _mostly_. Until he buried that guy alive-"

"That _killer_ , you mean."

"Yeah, whatever. And then whole undercover bit in Vegas happened. C'mon, we both know that operation was off book. But somehow he managed to get all the charges dropped for all the crap he pulled there-"

She bit back, "The _crap_ he pulled there actually helped catch Red John you might recall."

He nodded. "Yes, true. Bravo for that. Really. But that's not the point I'm making. You stood by him, defended him when you had to, said what you had to say to make sure he didn't get in any real trouble. Hell, you were probably fighting for those charges to be dropped, right? Because he _worked_ for you. He called you his partner some even said. He sure as hell didn't see you as his supervising agent, did he?"

As her cheeks continued to flame he added, "It's not a criticism. I get it. I do. Hell, some of his schemes were pretty ingenious or so I've heard. And he was a civilian, not a cop so partner was probably easier for his ego to handle. I heard he had one the size of Alaska."

"So I was nothing but Patrick Jane's stooge and hapless sidekick all these years? His _cleaner_? Babysitter? Is that what you're saying? Gee, thanks. Really glad I made the effort to come here tonight to listen to this crap."

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Well, you did."

He placed a hand on his temple. Softly, "Christ, I'm sorry. Okay? This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. I only meant that you might understand my predicament, that's all. Partnerships, they're not easy sometimes. Ups and downs. But you have to have their backs, you know? There's trust between you that that's the case. Jeez, didn't know Patrick Jane was such a touchy subject for you. It's not like you even work together anymore, anyway."

Fire in her eyes, " _He's_ not. My reputation, however, _is_. And frankly, I've had enough of _my_ work and my _team's_ work being undervalued lately."

He held his hands up. "Okay! Teresa, I'm really not looking for a fight."

She took a drag on her bottle, hand shaking as it clung tightly to its neck. Mancini regarded her as he mirrored her action like he'd hooked a fish only to discover it was a shark. She released the bottle, took an accompanying long breath as the amber liquid cooled her insides. She'd overreacted. Slightly. And Mancini had bore the brunt of it. But he'd touched a nerve, too, and she couldn't find it in her to apologise. "Fine."

He put the beer bottle down, clasped his hands in front of him. "Friends again?"

"We weren't friends in the first place," she replied evenly.

He chuckled slightly. "Okay-"

"You said _firstly_ before you started to assassinate my former team member and then my character by association-"

"I wasn't-"

"What's _secondly_?"

He held his hands up and sighed. "I give up, you win. Okay, secondly..." He turned quiet again, "secondly, you're someone I know I can talk to that I trust."

"You said that earlier. And I still don't get it. Why would you trust me above people you've presumably worked with for years?"

His lips formed a tight line and he slowly shook his head. "Because I think my partner's dirty. I think he's part of this thing Abbott's investigating." He breathed out, took a drink. "Damn, that's the first time I've actually said that out loud."

Her expression smoothed from irritation to understanding. "Smith? And you trust me because McAllister was part of it too. And if I were part of it then-"

"Then he would never have been caught, would he? He'd have been tipped off beforehand, never been in that limo," he shrugged.

"Well, I guess that's one point in my favour, huh?"

"Touché." He continued, "I really do respect you as a cop, Teresa, no matter how I might have just come across."

"Don't worry about it. So, Smith? You want my advice?"

"That's why I'm here."

"You already know what it's gonna be. You tell Fischer the truth. All of it. Whatever he's done that you've witnessed to lead you to that conclusion. No more half-truths. That's it."

He looked into his bottle. "Hm."

"Are you implicated?"

He looked sideways, his face contorted into an anguished smile. "Seemed like nothing at the time but...but yeah, yeah, I guess I could be if he decides to play it like that and retaliate." He faced her again. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"I'm not gonna lie. Yeah, probably. But if you've only exercised poor judgement and you're truly not part of Blake-"

"I'm _not_."

"Then you might only lose your career and not your freedom."

He gnawed on his bottom lip. "I'm a _damn_ fine agent, Teresa. It was a-a lapse in judgement-"

"I believe you. But it's not me you have to convince. And maybe you'll be able to work out a deal depending on how much they want Smith. But the longer you don't tell Abbott or Fischer the truth then the more you're going to look dirty too when they discover you haven't owned up to something you know earlier. Get ahead of it before they do, Gabe. Because they _will_ find out about it whatever it is. Abbott is a bloodhound, believe me. Wouldn't be surprised if he already knows whatever this is and is just waiting to see if you actually tell him." She added, "And, for the record, I don't want to know whatever the hell it is. Unless it involved the CBI or my team-"

"It didn't."

"Thank god. I have enough on my plate."

He drained his bottle with a nod towards the bar. "Another?"

"Have to get back, sorry."

"At this hour? Jeez, do you ever take a night off?"

"Not lately. So? You going to take my advice?"

He nodded. "What other choice do I have, huh?"

"Plus it's the right thing to do."

"Yeah. So I rat out my partner tomorrow then go back to working with him like nothing happened. Can't wait."

"One last piece of advice. Make sure you're convincing. If he _is_ Blake then...just be careful, okay?"

He smiled, "See? I knew you cared about me, really."

Her expression became taut as she spoke gently. "I already have a funeral to go to in the next week. Don't make me have to attend another one. Okay?"

* * *

The elevator opened, doors rattling as he arrived at his floor. He flashbacked as he exited to his very first visit to the CBI Senior Crimes Unit. So many years ago but he remembered it like it was yesterday - the sweaty palms, hesitancy as he fought to find speech that wasn't served in a whisper. Grief and desperation dripped off him, covering him like thick black tar. He took a breath, thankful of the cloak of night to put on his well-worn disguise of the man most people in this building had met - Patrick Jane, cocky and exuberant (former) CBI consultant. He took a step toward the bullpen.

He'd vowed to never return. But somehow he also knew he would. He knew it wasn't over. All those months he _knew_.

A frisson of exhilaration coursed through him as he walked on, anticipation of the hunt firing off neurons in his brain like fireworks. As much as he'd attempted to enjoy the simple pleasures in his sabbatical, he'd missed detective work. Almost as much as he'd missed...

 _Ah! My couch!_

His lips curled upwards and he found himself caressing its soft leather armrest with tender fingers. He glanced around, unsurprised to see Lisbon's office darkened at eleven pm and the bullpen bereft of occupants. A few desk lamps illuminated workstations, their paperwork left at their stations as they presumably attended crime scenes or interrogations. He eased himself onto its cushions, audibly sighed as he closed his eyes. He breathed in its rich, earthy musk through his nostrils. So, she hadn't banished it to some storage room as she might have. He considered why. Did she know he'd be back one day too? Or was it just because closing that door of possibility was too hard?

He opened his eyes, comforted by the feel of leather amidst his meandering thoughts. Van Pelt's desk sat in front of him and a wave of sadness washed over him like a soft tide. Anger soon followed, swelling up inside him like a breaker approaching. He dampened it down, broke its flow before it consumed him. It was an exercise he was more than familiar with, after all. Anger wouldn't help him in his pursuit - it would only help defeat him. And there was surely enough of it already around the CBI if his guesswork was correct in what he'd read off Lisbon's recent visit. He'd see if he was right by morning.

 _Anyway, first things first_ he muttered to himself as he got up, grabbing a brown paper bag he'd brought with him that contained his teal tea cup and saucer and a selection of teas.

He made his way to the break area to restock supplies and make a cup of green tea. His mental acuity could use a tune up at this hour if his plan to get better acquainted with the details of the investigation during the night was going to occur. He already had an idea of a lead to follow but it wouldn't hurt to be aware of what other irons were in the fire.

Then, he stopped suddenly in his tracks as he entered the kitchen area. A small slim figure clad in black leather jacket and blue jeans was opening a cupboard above her. He watched silently as she withdrew a small white box of headache pills before removing two. Teresa Lisbon went to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator but as she turned she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye as he stood there, observing her.

She gasped, the box of pills in one hand falling to the floor, its contents littering it. "God sake, Jane!"

He smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Lisbon." He pointed to the floor as she bent down to pick them up. "You missed some over there."

She looked up at him, astonished eyes and an inability to make a retort.

"You need some help?" he offered then, gaze penetrating hers, a dark resolve in place of amusement in his voice.

She got to her feet to stand opposite him, scattered pills forgotten. With an equally cool timbre, "You're back?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he brushed past her, placed his cup and saucer on the counter top and opened a cupboard. Methodically, he began restocking the paltry selection that resided.

"Jane," she tried again. "Are-are you sure about this?"

He turned, gave her a look she couldn't decipher and filled the kettle. As he placed it on the stove she was still watching him. He faced her, "Tea first. Then you can fill me in on where you're at since you're still here at this time of night."

"Jane, you don't have to do this, get involved in his crap again-"

There was a touch of annoyance in his tone. "No? Then tell me what other choice I have, Teresa."

" _I_ can handle it. _Let_ me."

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, sighed as he looked to his toes. "You found her," he said quietly.

Taken aback by the significance he'd put on those three words she shrugged, shook her head. "So? It's not like she's the first Red John victim I've seen, Jane. Not even the first person I've known killed by someone who worked for him. I'm _fine_. I'm not about to crack up if that's what you think."

He looked up then but said nothing for a long moment. Then he licked his lips. Gently, "It's different with Grace, though, isn't it? Because you blame yourself for her death. But, for the record, no, I don't think you're about to _crack up_ as you call it. But I am concerned your judgement might not be what it once was."

She looked away, cheeks flaming. "My _judgement_ is fine. And I blame McAllister and whoever the son of a bitch is that's working for him."

"And yourself. There's plenty of blame to go around. But the guilt lies solely with you."

Irritated, "Jane-"

He took a step forward, crushed an errant pill with his foot. It sounded like a bone breaking. Softly, "Tell me I'm wrong."

Her eyes welled up and she looked to the floor to remove herself from his impenetrable scrutiny. She knelt and began to gather pills again. She cleared her throat, attempted a businesslike approach. "If you're sure you want to help then we'd be glad of it, of course. As long as Wainwright approves it, naturally. I'm sure that'll be fine. We're...understaffed as you'd guess."

She stood up again, addressed him more formally than she had in years. "I'll be here for a little while longer so we'll chat in my office when you're finished making your tea."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, this is a pretty underwhelming chapter (I had to set some plot stuff up) and very Jane lacking. Next one he will feature much more prominently, I promise!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews last year, hoping 2019 will provide much more frequent updates to my stories.**

 **For this chapter, special thanks goes to the amazing Leafenclaw (if you haven't checked out their The Mentalist fics yet what's stopping you?! (Lol)) for your keen eye for detail that (inadvertently) made me include this chapter that, in turn, has helped me shape the background to this story in a much more satisfying manner).**

* * *

Chapter 5 - Brittle Branches

As Jane was making tea, Lisbon busied herself in her office making a rushed, haphazard attempt at tidying it. She wondered why she was bothering at all. It wasn't as if he wouldn't notice the place was a mess - a minute or two spent moving files from the floor and stashing coffee mugs in drawers wouldn't help matters much.

And, really, why did she even care so much about something so trivial right at this moment?

Momentarily, she stopped her frantic scrambling to consider that question. She quickly came up with a theory or two. Maybe because being informed by Abbott she was floundering was one thing – it being confirmed by Jane with just one supercilious glance at the disarray he was about to encounter was entirely another matter. Also, as she resumed gathering and stacking files in a corner behind her desk, it stopped her from dwelling on the fact Jane was back in her life. Back at the CBI. Because she she really didn't have time to think about _that_. Plus, compared to when she'd seen him last, now the man currently a few feet away was _her_ Jane and not some dishevelled beach bum watered down version. He was wearing a suit again, had shaved, and even had time for a haircut before he'd come back. Cleaned himself up for his next Act as Patrick Jane, CBI Consultant. Ashamed she was finding even a hint of comfort in that thought whilst in the midst of the most terrible of circumstances she bit down on her bottom lip with a shake of the head. "Damn, what's wrong with you?" she breathed.

"I could point out a few of your faults if you so wish, Lisbon," he said at her back, amusement and teasing more comfortable for him than the awkwardness she knew he must feel too being back in close proximity to her again all those months later. All those months _after_...

She jerked as she hunched over, toppling a lone file off its steep pile only aiding to his mocking of her. She got to her feet and faced him, pointed to the chair opposite her desk. As she sat down he made a significant ordeal of placing his cup and saucer on the desk and moving files off the chair. He deposited them beside him as she said, "Sorry, I was about to-"

He smiled, said, "No problem," as he finally sat down.

"I didn't know you were coming back," she said. It sounded more attacking than she meant it.

"Or you'd have tidied up for me?"

Again, another smile.

Now they were just becoming annoying.

She cleared her throat. Getting down to business would be best. "Before we go into any details, I want to ask you again. Are you _completely sure_ about this, Jane?"

"Yes."

She nodded slowly. _Well, that was a bust_. Nothing she could read off him with that one word. But at least he'd stopped smiling at her.

She began, "Okay, then. I guess I should go into some background with you to set the stage. How-how this corruption was uncovered-"

"I know how it started. It started when you _arrested_ McAllister."

She didn't miss the accusation in his tone.

Ignoring it, she carried on. "Yes. True. But that was just the start of something much bigger unveiled later on. After he was arrested I was visited by a Homeland Security Agent a day later."

"Homeland?"

"Yes. Named Bob Kirkland."

"Never heard of him."

"No, nor had I. But he knew about us. And was interested in _you_ , especially."

Jane leaned back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other and took a slow sip of tea. He raised a lazy eyebrow. If he was surprised he showed no inkling of it in his demeanour. "Oh?"

"Anyway, I'll get to that. He wanted to see McAllister. Said he might have a connection to a suspected terrorist attack he was investigating-"

"McAllister is a sociopath, not a terrorist. Not that I'm saying one necessarily cancels out the other but-"

"No, I know. And I thought the same. It was fishy, I agree."

"Let me guess. Wainwright approves the visit."

She shrugged. "Yeah."

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Boot licking those higher up the food chain is still his modus operandi, eh?"

 _More than ever._

She carried on without answering his question and showing little emotion. "The visit was arranged. McAllister was still being held in the cells here while charges were being drawn up and his property and any vehicles he owned were searched. Plus, there were ongoing discussions on where he should be held until he went to court to be charged. I walked Kirkland down to his cell myself. Like I said there was something strange about him. He spoke about you, asked where you were when all this was going on. That obviously _you_ had a special interest in this case. When I asked him why he was so interested and if you two had ever met he gave me this look before he said you hadn't. A look like he _did_ know you."

"Interesting. You thought he might be one of McAllister's people come to break him out? Perhaps take me out at the same time?"

"Crossed my mind. How could it not? _Especially_ when he mentioned you. My biggest fear was that McAllister would escape, somehow. That..." She looked away as her voice weakened, "That we did what we did that day only to lose him in the end."

 _That I did what I did that day. That I'd sacrificed what YOU wanted most only to also lose what was gained. That, ultimately, I'd lose you both._

She faced him again, maddening neutrality on his expression allowing her to adopt a similar tone. "In any case, he was relieved of his service weapon and searched for any other weapons or instruments he might use by Cho and Rigsby. Either to aid McAllister's escape or-"

"Or to hinder it entirely," Jane cut in.

Surprised, "How'd you realise his purpose was to harm McAllister and not help him?"

Instead of responding Jane smirked, "What happened when he arrived in the cell?"

 _Infuriating man. Still has to preen, show he's the smartest man in a room. Show me he can read me like a playing card like he always could._

"I can show you if you like. I have the tape from the cell." She swivelled in her chair to type on her keyboard.

Jane licked his lips. He wasn't sure if he could watch McAllister on camera knowing who he was now. Not just yet. He wasn't absolutely convinced he could act cool and contained. Certainly not with Lisbon watching and gauging his every reaction. "Maybe later," he said coolly. "Just tell me."

"Okay." _So he's not entirely unreadable._

She continued, "So, here's the thing. When we went in there it appeared like McAllister didn't know him. Looked that way to me, anyway. He barely looked at him."

"Did he say anything?"

"To Kirkland? No. Seemed to be more interested in reading my movements than whoever this guy was with me. Then, before I had a chance to even introduce Kirkland something changed in his eyes."

"McAllister recognised him?"

"More like he was searching for a memory of him. But, a second later, yes."

"Hm."

"Well, then, everything happened pretty quickly. Kirkland saw whatever change I had and he made this lunge for him. Like a switch went off in his brain he couldn't control. He practically jumped over the table to get to him. McAllister pulled back. Well, as far back as he could as he was handcuffed and in chains. Cho and Rigsby dragged Kirkland off him before he could inflict any real damage save for a few punches that landed."

Jane responded without a hint of sarcasm, "So McAllister's fairy godmother was looking out for him in the guise of the CBI once again."

Lisbon bristled, "So what were we supposed to do, Jane? Allow Kirkland to kill him while in our custody?"

Jane allowed that comment to hang in the air as he sipped from his cup. "So who is this Kirkland?" he said finally. "Apart from being a fellow failed avenger of justice? He lost someone to Red John too, I assume? Because what you just described sounds very much like a personal attack, not a hit of some sort. Certainly unplanned. Or his plan wasn't thought through too well. Emotion got in the way and he lost it."

Lisbon nodded. "Long story short? Kirkland's twin brother Michael was an alcoholic. Their father was too and he'd beat him and his brother and mother too. Their mother eventually killed herself. Bob Kirkland made it out, made a career for himself-"

Lisbon paused, suddenly aware of their similar backgrounds. A flicker of similar recognition in Jane's eyes where he'd made the same connection. She didn't know what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.

She went on, "His brother Michael wasn't so lucky. Stayed with their father and spiralled into alcoholism himself. Bob paid for treatment, rehab, and brought him to meetings and so on but nothing worked."

Jane interjected, "Let me guess. A miraculous saviour swooped in and _he_ got him to clean up his act."

"You got it."

Jane shook his head. "So Bob Kirkland believed his brother Michael was incorporated into Red John's - McAllister's - network of disciples. To what end? Why was he important?"

"Unknown. And McAllister's not talking."

"So this Michael hasn't been located?"

"No. He disappeared years ago. No trace. Bob Kirkland was convinced McAllister either killed him or had him killed. Assumed they'd fallen out at a later stage, maybe he attempted to get out from under him but he knew too much, knew who he really was."

"Bob Kirkland told all of this to you after his failed attempt to kill McAllister?"

"No. All he said after was that he was sorry. I got the feeling it was because he had failed himself and had acted so impetuously, not an apology for the actual assault itself. He said nothing else, just retreated into himself. And then well...well, that was that. It was over. He was...done."

Jane nodded, understanding the implication immediately. "How?"

"Higher ups didn't want the publicity so he was released soon after he cooled down, assault charges pending that more than likely wouldn't have been pursued. Killed himself later that night."

"Actual or...?"

She shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know. He was...broken afterwards is the only way I can describe it. Angry with himself that he'd acted so rashly and not thought through his actions. He could well have committed suicide. Or he could have been murdered by one of McAllister's people in retribution for the attack. There's no way of knowing for certain."

Jane sighed deeply, knitted his fingers together in his lap. "Anger and hatred can often foil the best laid plans." His words hung in the air for a moment. Lisbon watched him process his thoughts, doubtless pondering on what his reaction would have been if someone else had succeeded where he'd failed. She'd considered it herself at the time. Someone else with good reason to extract vengeance – would that have been acceptable to him or would he still have felt cheated?

He looked up at her again, his expression a clean canvas once more. "So, how did you come by the information on his brother if he didn't tell you?"

"Kirkland didn't show up at work the following day. His body was later discovered by Sac PD. We were called in, FBI too. Because of what had happened the day before and his link to McAllister any intelligence he may have gathered on him may have proved important for our case against him."

"Agent Darcy was in attendance back then?"

"Yeah, that's correct. Anyway, it was a bust. Or so we thought. His place was clean, nothing of interest. Nothing to show that he had _any_ type of interest in McAllister at all. His place was _too_ clean."

Jane quirked an eyebrow. "He didn't trust anyone who might search his place to keep that kind of information there."

She nodded. "So either he removed it before he came to see McAllister that day or removed it before he took his own life."

"He may not have expected to live in any scenario. Or another theory is that someone got there before you did and removed it after they murdered Kirkland."

"Yeah, I thought that might be a possibility too. But then a day later I received a note from him with a key to a storage unit. Posted to my _home_ address."

Jane smiled. "Ah! So he did trust someone. He trusted _you_."

"Yeah, guess so. Though I really have no idea why. Suppose since I arrested McAllister he knew I wasn't in league with him. It was posted the same day he died."

"And that's when you discovered his background, his brother's link to McAllister-"

"Yes. And...lots more. Files and folders containing research and information going years back." She licked her lips. "He was tracking your progress since you joined the CBI, Jane."

Confused, "How?"

She reddened, picked up a pen and tapped it on a notebook in front of her, distracted herself from his stare. "When you joined an arrangement was made for whoever was in charge here to inform Kirkland of any breaks in the Red John case. Any leads you discovered and were following."

Lisbon looked at him then, shrugged. "I talked to Virgil. He admitted it. He sent reports to Kirkland on your progress."

Jane half laughed. "Hightower as well?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. I've not had it confirmed personally. She's still under protection until McAllister's trial is over and this corruption is weeded out. But, yeah, Virgil made it sound like it was going to be an ongoing arrangement."

"Hm. Wainwright I'd bet too, then," Jane nodded.

She leaned forward. Sincerely, "I didn't know, Jane. I didn't know that was happening here."

He shrugged. "Hardly matters much, does it? Now, I mean?"

"Still," she argued with a strong shake of her head, "feels like a betrayal."

Their eyes met as soon as that last word left her lips. Suddenly, they were back there. That day in the desert. That choice. That decision. They'd been affecting affability the last few minutes, conducting themselves as they had for years. It had almost seemed like they could put what happened behind them and move on, a shared goal of finding Grace's murderer influence enough to really make that happen. But now tension as thick as arid copper dust hung in the air between them, choking their best attempts at maintaining congeniality. He couldn't hide the betrayal he still felt from her or perhaps he didn't want to. She didn't know. Maybe he didn't either. And maybe feeling like that towards her wasn't warranted by him and maybe it was. The past week she'd revisited that choice a hundred times or more, came down on it on opposing sides time and time again. She'd argued to herself it was right or wrong from all angles. But did it really matter? For now, only the guilt remained.

Lisbon cleared her throat, struggling to shift the physical manifestation of the strain she felt inside. Jane eventually blinked, lowered his gaze – the escape route he chose.

He spoke first, his tone soft, voice with a slight crack to it as he lifted his gaze back to her. "So, what else did you find at Bob Kirkland's storage unit?"

She rose from her chair, pleased to put some space between them momentarily. She picked up a letter opener from her desk and moved towards the chess board that sat a few steps away. She reached for the black rook chess piece on the board and upturned it. She slid the opener towards the soft green felt at its base. Jane turned as he heard the felt being released against the metal of the opener. His eyes widened as she removed a small flash drive from its hollow centre. She passed it to him wordlessly. He looked at it and then at her, a small smile of appreciation wavering on his lips.

She shrugged, a slight blush to her cheeks as she expressed, "You think I learnt nothing about being circumspect with information all those years working with you?"

He turned the drive in his fingers. He smiled back. "If I did this you'd call it an incredibly sneaky move, Lisbon."

She smiled, grateful the cloud of tension had passed overhead once more. It would return. But, for now, they both understood there were more pressing matters and information to cover. Personal gripes, recriminations and hurt feelings could wait.

"What's on it?" he continued with interest.

"The team and I took photographs of all his research and put it on that drive. It was extensive. He'd been looking for Red John for a long time. And in searching for him he'd come across a wider network of corruption. More than a few bad apples who were looking after McAllister's interests. He'd gone searching for Red John's identity but he had found a hell of a lot more. Some of it – well, most of it – was questionable. He'd made suppositions but I had no idea if those suppositions were true-"

"-Or the ramblings of someone caught up in an obsession trying to make the pieces fit their own agenda."

She nodded. "There were names, question marks against them, names crossed off for whatever reason. Working where he did he had access to some personal information we don't even have access to so I'm guessing he was able to make connections we couldn't. Truthfully, it was a lot. I didn't know what to do with it initially."

"But eventually you turned over all the physical evidence to the FBI?"

"After a day or so of looking through it myself and talking to the team about it, yes. The alternatives were going with it to Wainwright or Bertram but-but I didn't know if that was the right thing to do. Can't really explain why I didn't. Just instinctively, _that_ felt like the wrong thing to do."

A faint smile of approval came to his lips. "So you handed it over to Susan Darcy?"

She nodded. "Well, I knew she wasn't affiliated with McAllister even if I didn't like her much personally. There was so much information. And it was...it was too big for us to handle. For _me_ to handle on my own. I had McAllister. _He_ was my priority, Jane. I didn't know what else to do."

"Plus you had all those press briefings to cover, I suppose."

The words escaped before he could stop them, stop the bite in them.

She raised her voice. "You _really_ think I wanted to parade myself around like I was the Second Coming of Jesus Christ or something? We've been through this already."

If he could lose his composure a little she may as well too.

He shook his head, uncharacteristically ran a hand through his hair. He sighed. "Sorry, Lisbon. I didn't...that was uncalled for. And petty. I apologise."

She scowled before she breathed out. Softly, "We need to be able to communicate and be civil while doing so if we're going to work together on this. I'm not saying you have to forget what happened or what I did but-"

He nodded, looked into the bullpen as he exhaled loudly. "Fair enough."

"Anyway," she went on, "I kept copies of everything I found on that drive. Just...just in case I was wrong to trust her with it, I guess."

"You believe you were?"

"I don't think so, no. Abbott's investigating off the back of it and I guess he's getting results or will soon if rumours are anything to go by."

His forehead crinkled. "You said you only met Abbott a few times. Why aren't you more involved in this if you were the one to get it started?"

She looked away, shrugged. "Because he doesn't know it was me who started it."

Confusion gave way to clarity and his expression brightened into a smile. "You didn't _hand_ this over to Darcy. You sent her to the storage unit on an anonymous tip to discover it by herself."

"Might have," she smiled with a hint of pride.

"You didn't want to attract any further attention to yourself or your team. Or any possible recriminations it may bring to your door."

"There was enough going on back then with what McAllister's network might try never mind a whole new world of corrupt cops coming after me and my team. I didn't want to make our target larger than it had to be."

Jane's expression clouded over. He'd left, thinking it was the best course of action he could take. He hadn't much considered the danger that remained behind for Lisbon and her team in his absence.

She added, reading his concern, "If you had been here it wouldn't have made a difference, Jane. It would have only made someone want to try harder."

Quietly, "Were there many attempts on your lives before Grace?"

Emotionlessly, "We're cops. That's the life. Anyway, doesn't matter, it's not relevant to what I'm telling you now."

He blinked, the brave sentiment expressed in such a blasé fashion it shocked him.

She continued, not losing a beat, "So that's it, really. In a nutshell. Background to where we are now."

He twirled the flash drive in his fingers. "Were there any substantial hypotheses from Kirkland's investigation that could mean McAllister is the puppet master in all of this?"

She shook her head. "Not from the research left behind. Red John was very much a shadowy figure in that. Hard to provide or prove much of a substantial nature when you're chasing a ghost. He didn't know who he was for much of it, after all. But I have no idea how farther along Abbott's investigation has come since."

Jane murmured agreement. "Sounds like something we should find out. Grace's killer could be on one of Abbott's lists of suspects."

"Yeah, good luck with that," she scoffed.

"You've already asked for the information and he refused."

"Yep, saw him today."

"Wants to keep his cards close to his chest, eh? Well, can't fault him for that. Why didn't you tell him if it wasn't for you he wouldn't even have the information he started with?"

"Because he made this big deal about trust and following the rules. How he is with me he'd probably use that information against me to take me off Grace's case entirely!"

"So you're both stubborn is what you're telling me. Both untrusting."

She pouted, scowled in his direction. "You're hardly one to talk."

He couldn't stop a small smile from making its way across his face.

She added, "He'll want to talk to you when he hears you're back. When I met him earlier today he even asked about you."

"Reason being?"

She shrugged. "None I could make sense of but from what I know of him there must be one."

"I bet."

He grinned after a moment, relishing the prospect of a battle of wits. "Well," he continued, "I'm sure our paths will cross sooner or later. I look forward to meeting him."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Empty Space

Lisbon nodded towards the drive in his hand. "I can have Grace-"

She halted mid-sentence, pursed her lips as her eyelids fluttered closed for a second. Swiftly, dispassionately, she started again, "I can have someone go through the contents of that with you when you might want to take a look. Might be something on there where its importance was overlooked at the time."

Jane nodded, eyes drifting to the darkened bullpen once more. He sighed, said nothing, remained staring into the shadowed memories he found there. She watched him, her gaze following his as if that would provide answers on what was running through his mind. Grace, certainly. Whatever else would remain a mystery.

"Actually, we have a new tech analyst joining us the day after next," she said, breaking the stillness. There was an urgency that hadn't been there before to fill the space between them with noise, conversation, idle chatter. It wasn't solely because of Jane, though. For the past week she'd noticed herself become increasingly chatty, much to her chagrin. And even when at home she required background music or the blaring of the television set to deafen the thoughts in her head. She went on, "But ask Cho to help with the drive, not-"

He turned at that, faced her again with a cock of his head. He'd appeared completely wrapped up in his own thoughts but he'd just read something into how she'd just uttered those words.

He pinned her with a piercing expression. "You're not happy to have someone replace Grace so quickly or you simply don't trust the replacement? Or is it both?"

His eyes roamed quickly over her features and he added swiftly, answering his own question before she could, "Perfectly natural under the circumstances to feel like it's too soon. Foolhardy, perhaps, though-"

"Why do you say it's foolhardy?"

"Because..." He made a grand gesture, gesticulating with a large sweep of his hands to their surroundings, "it's obvious you need help around here, especially on the technical side. Would help us focus on the more significant leads. And Grace..." He softened his tone, "And just because you're grieving doesn't give you the right to allow that to influence what needs to be done in the present. Grace doesn't care what happens now, Lisbon. How you feel. What I believe she would appreciate but, more importantly, what _you_ need, is finding out who killed her. That's what's important. Not whether it's unseemly or untimely if or when or whether she's replaced at all. Someone with the same skillset she had or even a fraction of it will make that easier."

Lisbon, caught between irritation and acceptance, shook her head. "I know she's not here to care, Jane. And, yes, I hear you. But-"

She sighed, clicked her tongue. "It's not that straightforward."

"Because of Rigsby, you mean? How was their relationship in the last few months? He's no longer with Sarah? How you reacted when you first told me made me think Grace and he had rekindled their romance in recent months."

She shook her head. "Didn't work out with Sarah, no. Faking his death then going to Vegas to catch Red John was a step too far for her. She said she couldn't trust him after that, or so I heard."

Jane murmured, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. It was my plan."

She shrugged, "He knew what he was agreeing to. We all did."

"Your family can't have been happy, either. I mean, initially-"

"Well, my family is already pretty screwed up so it was just another Tuesday for them."

He half chuckled. He wasn't sure if he bought what she was selling entirely but whatever had transpired was between her and her family was the message he received clearly.

"So, he and Grace...?"

She nodded with a wistful smile, "They got back together a short time after McAllister was arrested."

"They finally removed those tiresome regulations on inter office dating?"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "You knew and didn't report it."

A slight blush came to her cheeks. She was hardly one to report anyone after what had happened – and what might have also happened – between herself and Jane prior to him leaving. "There were more pressing matters than who was dating who at the time, Jane. They kept it away from the office – or at least away from my immediate vicinity – and I didn't want to lose either one of them from my team."

They shared a look. _Because I'd already lost you._

She continued, "So, yeah, Rigsby, he's-he's going through a lot right now. I mean, he'll be fine. I'm sure. Eventually. It's just...bringing someone in straightaway will be hard for him. I'll need to prepare him for it. It's not a conversation I'm looking forward to having. That's all."

"Hm."

She narrowed her eyes. "What? There's something else you're dying to say, obviously."

"If you insist. It's why I said before that your judgement is impaired right now."

Incredulously, "Because I'm worried about the mental health of one of my team members? Have I really come across as that unsympathetic in the past?"

He wavered, "Uh, unsympathetic is a tad harsh but...well...subtlety or delicacy aren't your normal go-to reactions, are they? You say what you mean and say what you think. You don't pander. And certainly not to one of your team." He rolled his eyes with a slight smile, "Believe me, I've been on the brunt of some of your more honest interactions on an occasion or two. I know what I'm talking about."

"Wow, you make me sound completely heartless. And being worried about one of my team members is hardly what I'd call pandering."

"Okay, fair point. And you're far from heartless. Your team know you care. They would never think otherwise. And if you're looking for someone to fight their corner then they'd pick you a million times over. As they should. I'm not insulting you, Lisbon. I'm just trying to elaborate my point, albeit rather clumsily."

She picked up a paperweight from her desk to stop her from making a fist. Brusquely, "Which is?"

He gave her a moment to cool down then spoke softly as he leaned in, "Which is that you feel incredibly guilty about Van Pelt's murder. And that guilt is manifesting itself by allowing Rigsby to continue working when you know he needs some time off."

"You think I haven't considered that? But just maybe he needs to work, Jane. That that's how he'll cope with all of this, get through it."

"No, that's Cho. And you too come to that. It's not Rigsby. He'll implode or explode sooner or later. Neither option is what's best for him. Plus, I'm also betting Cho is babysitting his partner. So, they're both unable to perform at their best currently."

She leaned back in her chair, scowling. Drily, "I'm really glad you came back to help us and not criticise. Thanks, Jane."

He smiled, "I'm more than capable of doing both, Lisbon." He added softly, "Rigsby needs to spend some time with his son right now."

She sighed, "I've tried-"

"Try harder. Insist on it. Order it."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll think about it."

He went on, "So, the guilt...At first I thought it stemmed from what happened that day with McAllister in the desert. But _this_ guilt is more personally attached to Grace's murder. Why is that?"

She rose from her desk, stretched her legs to move away from his stare. She stood with her eyes on the bullpen. It was useless withholding or denying what he'd just pointed out. And pointless to spend any of their time on a rebuttal. _There's more important work to get on with so just give him what he wants or he'll just keep coming at you._

"It's stupid," she began quietly. "And I know it logically makes no sense. But I can't seem to stop thinking about it."

He said nothing but shifted slightly in his chair to face her back.

"It should have been Rigsby with us in Pasadena, not Grace. He was scheduled to go with Cho and me that day. But...but just before we left, I went to grab my lunch from the refrigerator to take it with me for the drive."

"Only Rigsby had eaten it first," Jane surmised.

She turned to face him, eyes glistening. "I told you it was stupid." She shrugged, "But yeah, he had. So, I was _pissed_. Told him to answer the phones and for Van Pelt to come with us instead. Next morning, she was dead."

Jane sighed, said softly, "Teresa-"

"I know. I _know_ , Jane. Whoever killed her would have come for her another time if they hadn't had the opportunity then. It would have only held them off. Once the order had come through her fate was sealed. I know all of that. _Logically_. But-"

She shook her head, "But that stupid outburst of mine wouldn't have made it _that_ day. And maybe the time after we'd have caught him before he got the chance."

"You mean catch a killer you had no idea was coming after her or when, you mean? Hm, if you recall, there's no such thing as actual psychic ability, Lisbon."

"Like I said, stupid, I know. But feeling guilty isn't always logical, you know that better than anyone."

He dipped his head. "Yeah."

A moment passed and she went back to her desk. "Thanks," she said softly.

He caught her eyes. "For what?"

"For not giving me some lecture on the matter or advice on how to get over it. For just...listening instead."

He smiled gently. "It's not like it's exactly a subject I've been successful in accomplishing myself."

They locked eyes affectionately for a brief moment before Jane leaned back in his chair again and changed his tone from sympathetic to probing.

"So, in answer to my other question earlier, if you don't trust this individual who's replacing Grace - why is that precisely? Have your paths crossed before or do you just suspect everyone outside your inner circle of having ulterior motives nowadays?"

She blinked. In addition to the sudden shift in atmosphere from personal to professional, it was taking time to get used to being read so openly again and the cockiness and surety in his tone. "Actually, I-I don't know him, we've never met. And-and maybe you're right on the other point. Trust is...trust is hard right now. For pretty obvious reasons."

He hummed in agreement. "That said, that's a pretty quick turnaround in supplying cover with things being as they are right now. I'd have imagined staffing issues would be a concern and not resolved quite so swiftly with this wider investigation ongoing."

"In normal circumstances you'd be correct. But this isn't as a result of a request I made. Nor one directly answered by Wainwright."

A slow smile appeared. "Abbott's work? He's sending in one of his people to spy for him?"

She shrugged, glowering.

As his smile grew larger, she added, "Look, if you're back to help, then help. Don't turn this into some sort of guerrilla warfare with the FBI for god's sake."

"You don't want me in your corner?" he beamed. "C'mon, why wouldn't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just don't cause any more trouble than there has to be, okay? Who knows where the CBI is going to end up when all of this is over? And I have enough black marks against my name without adding any more of them. I'd like myself and my team to still have jobs at the end of this that aren't part of the janitorial staff if that's at all possible."

"Why would you have black marks against your name? You captured a notorious serial killer."

"That was months ago. Before this larger investigation. Before the FBI became involved. Before Abbott."

Jane wrinkled his forehead as he nodded. "Ah! I see. He's looked at your previous cases. At some of our cases together, specifically, I'm guessing."

At Lisbon's nod he said with a straight face, "Hm. Understandable why he'd be suspicious of your methods then, Lisbon."

"My methods! You-"

His smile turned into a grin and he chuckled.

She smiled back despite her best intentions. "Anyway, all I know is his name is Jason Wylie and he's just out of Quantico. I'm promised his file tomorrow, such as it is."

"A rookie, eh? That's an interesting choice by Abbott."

"Right? I thought so too. I thought if he was sending someone in to spy for him, he'd send in someone more experienced, more known to Abbott personally."

"Have you considered that maybe all he wants is to help find Grace's killer?"

"Hm, we'll see," she suggested, suspicion in her expression. It was soon followed by a yawn.

"You should get home, get some rest," he told her.

"I'm fine, I'll grab another coffee, we can continue-"

"No, you're going to turn into an espresso before my very eyes if you drink anymore of that awful stuff." He pointed to a stack of files to the right side of her desk. "Those are the files of prison guards and other persons of interest who've been interacting with McAllister?"

"How did you know that?"

"They're situated on your right so you're planning on looking at them next. I'll take over, you get home."

Another yawn escaped, "Okay, maybe you're right."

"You okay to drive yourself home?"

Confused, "Why wouldn't I be? I'm just tired, it's not like it's the first time I've worked long hours, Jane."

"Not just the long hours. Alcohol tends to make people sleepier too-"

She blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"You've been drinking tonight. I smelt it on your breath when you dropped your headache pills. Beer...ahh...Heineken, if I'm not mistaken."

Speechless at his audacity she rose from her desk and grabbed her bag. As she was about to leave, she turned to him, "I had _one_ beer, Jane. If you're implying anything else then damn well come out with it."

He held his hands up. "Okay, my mistake. It's just normally not like you to drink and come back to work afterwards. Or, at least, you never used to."

"I had a meeting then I came back. Okay? Anything else, Generalissimo?"

"A meeting at ten at night? In a bar? With a man if the woody tones you also smell of are anything to go by. I may be wrong but I think they're sometimes called dates, Lisbon."

She couldn't read what he was implying by his response or between whatever lines he was drawing conclusions from. And she was too tired to be interrogated on the matter. If this was how he was about to bring up the subject of his dating life then he'd be disappointed. She opened the door of her office with a sour expression. "Goodnight, Jane."

* * *

When she arrived at the elevator, she shook her head. "Damn it," she muttered. With a weary sigh she returned to her office. Jane had picked up the stack of files and was on the couch in her office perusing the first one on the pile. Surprised, he looked up with a pleasant and neutral expression like she hadn't been irritated with him before she'd left. "Forget something?"

She wavered at the doorway, "Look, um, I don't have a lot of excess in my budget but I can spare someone to provide a security detail for you. I'm sure Wainwright will approve it in the morning when I tell him you're back."

He looked sideways, perplexed. "I think I'm more than secure in your office tonight, Lisbon. Besides, I won't be a target. Not yet like you said on my yacht. Best use your budget for you or other members of the team."

"Yes...yes, but...um..." She hesitated, unsure of how to bring up protection for Ellie if she'd come to Sacramento with him. "When you're not here though...I presume you didn't bring your yacht-"

"Not quite the place for it, no," he responded with a smile.

"So where are you staying while you're here? I could put a detail there."

He shrugged, "Not much point if I'm going to be here mostly, is it? I'll change motels periodically if I'm going to be here for a while as I usually did before. And aren't we going around in circles? I'm safer than anyone else, Lisbon. For now."

"Yes-yes, okay," she dithered. He was being deliberately obtuse on the matter so presumably Ellie was safe elsewhere and she hadn't come to Sacramento with him. It made sense he'd keep her as far from danger as he could.

"Thanks for the offer though. Goodnight again, Lisbon," he replied, crossing one leg over the other as he went back to his reading material.

* * *

"Well, we could certainly use the help," Wainwright observed. "I'll have the official paperwork completed asap."

Lisbon sat in his office the following morning, bleary-eyed. She'd missed her second cup of coffee in a bid to make it to the office early but currently that plan was proving counterproductive. "Yes, it'll be helpful to have Jane back."

"So long as he realises, we need him to work the case cleanly. We can't have him pulling the same type of shenanigans he did with Marx. The D.A.'s office is getting hounded by his lawyer over his treatment, it's doubtful that prosecution is gonna hold up."

Lisbon nodded. It wasn't like she didn't agree with him that Jane had gone too far on that case but telling Jane how to work a case was like inviting him to do the exact opposite. "I can handle Jane, it'll be fine. Last thing he wants is for this guy to walk. Stakes are too high."

"All right. Good."

He pulled a manila folder from a desk drawer and handed it to Lisbon. "This was messaged over last night. Background on Jason Wylie. Abbott informed you he'll be helping with Van Pelt's case. Looks keen, he'll be an asset."

She looked at him for something more, a further explanation, or an apology, even, that he'd allowed Abbott to tell her and not himself. He returned her look with one of careful blankness. Folder in hand she rose, "He starts tomorrow?"

"Yes, he's getting up to speed with Abbott's team today. You can brief him tomorrow, read him in."

"Will do," she smiled sweetly. Too sweetly for him not to see right through it.

* * *

"Jane, you're back!" Rigsby's voice tunnelled through the cocoon of brown leather Jane was wrapped in. He mumbled with a yawn, "Morning, Rigsby." Slowly, he sat upright. Blinked a few times as Rigsby's eyes waited for him to come to, laser focused.

"I'm truly sorry about what happened to Grace," Jane said finally, matching Rigsby's searching gaze.

Before he could respond Jane abruptly rose from his couch, stretched his arms and back. "Come on, let me buy you breakfast," he announced, "catch up for a bit."

"Ah...yeah, sure. Sounds good." He nodded towards Lisbon's office. "The boss know you're back?"

"Yeah, we spoke last night."

Rigsby pointed to Cho's desk. "Should we wait for Cho?"

"No, let's go. Need me some tea and eggs pronto."

As they made their way to the elevator Cho exited it. "Jane," he said simply.

"Morning, Cho, catch you later."

Rigsby shrugged as Jane led him inside the elevator and pushed the button to take them to ground level.

* * *

"Jane, tell me you'll do whatever you need to do to find this bastard." Rigsby gritted his teeth as they sat a table in a diner a short walk from CBI Headquarters. He pushed the fully loaded American breakfast Jane had ordered for him to the side.

Jane tucked into his scrambled eggs. Calmly, "Eat first. Then we'll talk."

"I told you I wasn't hungry. You're back which is...great, obviously. And look, I'm sorry for how it all went down for you in Vegas. That was a mistake-"

"I didn't come back here to dredge up the past," Jane responded sharply. He bit back the response in his head – only now that one of their own was murdered did it appear that day's actions to be misguided by his former teammates. He sipped his tea, calmed his tone, "I will find out who murdered Grace but right now I need you to do something for me."

Eagerly, "Yeah, anything, man. What do you need?"

Jane paused, allowing his words to carry the significance he required, "I need you to take some time. Maybe take Ben someplace nice for a few days."

The tall agent frowned, "What?! Ben is _fine_. Sarah's got him-"

"Do you remember when I first came to the CBI?"

The other man frowned, "Yeah, course. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Lisbon told me I was a distraction at the office. As you are proving to be now."

"It's not the same thing. I _work_ there. And I _need_ to do this. You understand that, right?"

"You know I do. More than anyone."

Rigsby shook his head. "So, what gives? Did Lisbon put you up to this?"

Jane sighed, "No. And you need to stop blaming this on her. That's another thing."

"I-I'm not."

"Yes, you are. It's practically dripping off you every time her name is mentioned."

Rigsby licked his lips. Shamefaced, "She should never have stopped you, none of us should. We should have let you kill McAllister." His voice weakened, "Then maybe Grace-"

"It was my mistake to ever involve any of you in the first place. But regrets won't help you through this, Rigsby. Believe me."

Rigsby heaved a sigh. He looked outside to view a red-haired woman push a stroller. His voice broke, "We were talking about getting married just before... And now I-I can't believe I'm never gonna see her face again." He faced Jane again and pleaded, "How do you expect me to stay out of this? You couldn't, could you?"

Jane shook his head. Solemnly, "No. But you have something left I didn't. Something good to hold onto. You think I'd have made the same choices I did if my daughter had lived?"

Rigsby bit his lip, picked at a slice of bacon without interest. "I guess not."

Jane nodded, patted his friend's hand. "Take him someplace nice. And when the time comes, I'll be in touch."

With a half-hearted nod Rigsby agreed. As Jane went back to his eggs he wondered if his choices would have been any different. He could only hope they would have been.


End file.
